Remember how we spoke of using words you've used in recent poems, and I said that the poems should stand eternal on their own?

That is true, but when reading a poem in context, if you can use it to add layers, that is an opportunity that should not be missed.
And this piece? Well, let's look at it alongside salt-grave and Until I See.... And they paint a spectrum. I know there are at least two people spoken of in these pieces, but I'm going to look at it as if they were the same.

We are not simple people. "I should find another shore" is not contradicted by you feeling alone where you once belonged. It is not contradicted by speaking of unearnest apologies. It's not only that it is merely complementary, that each poem paints a bigger picture on why one should find another shore (because they feel left behind and that the apologies they get are not only fake, but belie hidden poisonous attitude.

No, it is because even if we have left, and especially when we speak of "should," we also sometimes try to make things better. We still rail at the injustice of it all. We mourn the loss of what was or could've been just as much as we look at it and with a heavy heart think of needing to set out.

This piece is of a much wider scope though. There's a reason that "The last of their kind" is a common motif in science-fiction stories. Because it's something we all fear.
To be uprooted from our place of origin, from our family, from our people.

And as you grow older, you can even be uprooted through time. Simply by outliving the people, and the world, where you used to dwell.

And that other kind of feeling uprooted is rooted (ha!) not in you actually moving, but in anything but you moving. And it is still you that feels out of place.

And this poem speaks to that.
And the imagery speaks to one who is unbending, so if we return to my earlier message, it could perhaps apply to the one the speaker in those poem spoke to, rather than narrator. Unbending, unflinching. Losing parts of itself, but standing tall, head unbowed.

And lonely.