Whaling Station Deception Island

Pimpled by a weathered ageYou have seen much.Lying there,Desolate,Alone.The small indentations pierced sharp by flaying knivesSlowly weather away.Over time they diminish, like the pain, hurt less, like the pain.Exposed to air and wind,Old bones bleach outLonging for the water...And the whale that was.