STORMBOUND
Two futile words lie drowned within the foam,
roll wave on wave in thundering parade,
and shatter soundless, breaking all alone,
toward cliffs that cut them sharp as any blade.
In hush of silence, still, I hear the thunder cry,
when in my agony I’ve lost my voice.
And sheer I keep my stony silence—curse? There’s none.
But only to myself—storm’s will, my only choice.
A lightning strike flares sudden on the sea’s still face,
commands with force its one decree: “It’s now!”
Through me the tide swells, burdened by shared blame—
through me the wind wails… the answer, clear somehow.
Author: Veron
