I hear the water cry,
“I am your safety”,
but drowning sings
its dirge across my chest.
Hope urges faith
can walk across the sea…
My wounds burn in brine’s no
as I bleed another tear into the tempest.
Memory’s mutiny has unleashed suppressed,
and I feel the anchor of ghosts freed
from Davy Jones’ locker.
I am a fish forced to once again
swim a dead sea I thought I’d conquered.
I pray the demon’s spear will pierce the last revelation
so I will no longer fear a shadow will come to snuff my
candle.
