Poetry

The Peril of the Waves

Savage here the wind does blow
through the city’s standing stones
to the path along the water
where once I walked a sailor’s daughter

Gentle then was the breeze that came
and carried with it your first name
in father’s stories overheard
and in the shapes of summer birds

Idle then, as a bottled ship
they told me you could not exist,
when through the rain, I saw your face
upon a ship bound for Thrace.

But evil are the empty phrases
given to the girl who waited
like a captain, tied to mast
bound & deaf as the furies passed.

On lonely shores, I marked my days
in inches unravelled into the maze,
bits of hair and flesh to you
stretched and tied like Ariadne’s clew.

Darkly still, I walk the path
up the cliffs of browning grass
to cast my prayer across the sea,
Come back to the world, come back to me.

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