liberty in the storm

“The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible,
but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason
for remaining ashore.”—Vincent Van Gogh

my tiny boat,          
          wind-tossed about
                    by salt-edged waves at night,
sounded a note—
          a withered shout—
                    for rescue from her plight.

she was a kite
          without a tail,
                    the spray her predator;
with every bite,
          the chilling hail,
                    a stingy creditor

that bartered time
          for treachery,
                    flotation for whirlwind.
nor was there rhyme,
          for revery
                    had rendered all hopes blind.

as suddenly
          as blazed the wind,
                    a birdsong filled the air;
thus, sullenly,
          where he had sinned
                    a truce he would declare.

my liberty
          exhausted still,
                    lay silent on the brim;
catastrophe,
          bred first to kill,
                    now sang a contrite hymn.

© Copyright 2023 August 09
by Clyve A. Bowen♫