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There are islands
in personal journey –

respite rocks in salted waters –

 

when gales calm to breezes
and bring cool, sun-stained air on their backs,

 

when the sand gives way only enough to slow your pace
but does not fall out from under you,

 

when you can hear the beach-bound waves,

shh,

shh,

shh,

here is a new tide I bring,

shh,

 

where a smile comes freely
without payment –
without pain –
and your brow is loose and milky.

 

In this reprieve

I breathe

and love, still.

 

 

The seas will rage again, I know
and in them I shall swim.
’Tis how I’ve been made –
to rudder, to row,
and navigate oceans within.

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