An howling wind
rends shredded sails and turned
the sea into walls of white fury
black depths beckon
as if there were no path but descent.
Still in a dream of safe harbor
a boat surrenders itself
from vessel into an Ark
whose ventures wait in
a dark and clouded horizon
and courage sings death
a dirge drawn of merciless water.
Hope has been gathered by two's:
woman's wait, man's dream remembered
reside in a place of fond agreement
while he and she exchange
breath and pulse on opposite sides
of storm and night.
2 comments:
Howard, this poem is permeated with vivid metaphors, and tender touches of love, which are felt even through the howling wind and walls of white fury...
connecting in breath and pulse may overpower storm and night, I'm sure..
Thank you for the beautiful words!
I had this image of a boat in the harbor, and it is no longer as Paulo Coelho says a boat- it is something else because it denies its purpose; and her it becomes an ark-- two by two the wishes oh him and her gathered--but the purpose of the boat is an adventure...anyway-- is what i get for reading Paulo..;)
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