Slowly rotating up and out, where fears are lobster traps
And nightmares haunt with sharpened teeth,
On sun-lit waters of crystal blue, the surprising shark attack.
The phone call,”Oh I’m sorry to inform…”
The realization it was all a lie, the deeper that you delved,
The understanding you were writing different books,
And his was being published, while yours was being shelved.
Up above the bloody surf where bodies float inert,
Feeling the lightness of leaving it all behind.
Now traps flung open, and sharks are turning into swans
And red tinged foam, is mirroring a glorious sunset.
I begin to rise away from what anything used to mean.
In the air of fresher winds, old wars are now forgotten and forgiven.
Trusting, a pirouette of graceful promise, higher than I thought I’d ever go…
August 20th 2013