Even After the Storm

Out on the raging battleground,
the ocean's churning field,
between the rifts and the liquid heights,
her forlorn fate was sealed.

The words that had been spoken,
like lightening charred her heart.
The thunder doomed, forebodingly,
as faith was ripped apart.

On wild waves she whirled
and was shaken by the sea.
The little boat she sat in
groaned like a falling tree.

The water entered swiftly
into her cursed boat.
She bailed sorrow constantly,
she strove to live, to float.

The storm passed on eventually,
the black gave way to gray,
A colorless and banal light
emerged to show the day.

And yet her vessel still was full,
no matter how she bailed.
There was no way that she could row,
no way she could have sailed.

For every bucket she scooped out,
another entered in.
Her arms grew weak with leaden weight-
and water filled within.

The sorrow seized, triumphantly,
the fight she could not win.