Why does a form whisper across my view
In places where the unfamiliar go?
How can it be that as the sands subdue,
Resounding shells unearth neglected woes?
Were not the bloody wounds severe enough,
And did their pain not slice across the seas?
Rebuking waves now whip the flesh so rough
And so the mast is felled unto its knees.
Reflecting pools only reveal a flare
When inner rope unties a weakened knot.
Secure them now and dowse Medusa’s stare -
Those eyes belie a silent spring of loss.
The lessons learned upon a moor of tears
Return a slap that shocks the senses clear.
.
