Peder Balke


Sometimes I wake to the sound of the sea
The rhythm of the waves
Rolling time away
A year
A day
It pulls a pulse
A steady beat to match my heart
I know the words the seagulls cry
The keening
Weaving
Wheeling high
Their haunting song much more
They chant
Much more
I hear each grain of grief roll down
A love lost strand
I feel the past
Beneath my feet sharp memories bleed
To glitter in the sand 
I sift the darkened stretch of offered prayers
I grasp the fading night to know my fate
My single tear
Undoes the tide
When I was young
A smuggler rowed a golden light
And like a widow I must bide
Sometimes I wake to the sound of the sea
A year
A day
I wait

Sara Mathews     March 2018