written by: Sheri M. Stewart
I sit between two young trees,
On a grassy bank of the Conodoguinet Creek.
Blonde hair gently blown by the wind.
Blue eyes closed, holding a tsunami at bay.
I feel the warm sun on my face,
and the slight dampness of the ground.
I sense the serenity of the moment,
although there is turmoil within.
I reflect on how I must look at peace,
sitting listening to the water.
While within flows a babbling torrent,
seeking to pull me under.
The waves begin to surge,
crashing against heart’s barriers.
The dam breaks and teardrops spill,
creating the patter of salt filled rainfall.
The soft cry of gulls issue from lips,
as I rock on this turbulent sea.
My pain gushing forth
as liquefied anguish.
The ocean becomes a lake,
a pond, a marsh, then dry ground.
I sit emptied, adrift and alone,
as part of me is borne downstream.