Wake

Boat of emptyCC Photo from Flickr


Wake

Every season has a soul
and every storm its sorrow.
The breath-beat of life,
keeping time, an eddied current,
and I’ve returned from the grave of ache.

A rejected wash more poignant
when viewed as what is not.
No wake of hate. No muddied rivers.
No slipstream on this self-propelled
boat of barren bleu.

© Grace Black

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