All the small pieces are
Broken and left fallen on
Driftwood bits float
Ever downstream. Treasures now
Guarded are the passages into the city.
Here the doors are bolted
Jealousy and hurt caution. We hear a woman
Keening for lost and scattered
Love. We turn away. Toward the sea.
Moving winds blow us down a dusty road, but
Nothing stops us. We find the fair ship
Over the last sea we cross before home.
Perhaps the rescued
Quivering of out hearts can
Revere companionship as well as
Solitude. Our pieced love rewoven by
Underneath our scars is
Verdigris measured out by a
Waterclock of the divine.
Young again we set forth.
Zephyr sea winds fill our sails.
– Kay Winter