Storm of the Unsaid




Fog cleaves the twilit air
splitting long moments in two
and she stands between halves
dying to pull time back
to mold and mend it
into the form of her comfort.


Ocean sends a haunting hymn
curling up through the waves
and she longs to respond
but her words lay entombed
beneath swirling sprays
and self-imposed silences.


Gales scream against the dusk
carrying abandonment’s rage
and she throbs with the pain
of wind-lacerated hands
outstretched for salvation
and the warmness of love.


A ship clings close to the rocks
heaving in swells of ambiguity
and she stands at the bow
hoping to ride out the storm
of the heart-breaking uncertainty
crashing within her.