She used to face the wind, steady
strength worn in straight lines and
sound steps. But harsh nights
and bitter words weathered her
core, washed away resolve,
beat down seasoned worth,
pieces fall away, she lets
them go, it’s all broken
anyway, layers of fall
lean and snap of
her, cruel words
grab, she’s only
a fragment of
what she was,
the rest of
her is
gone
He blew through bitter and dark,
battering her shores with cruel winds
that dragged her in a frenzied, swirling dance.
His wrathful waves assaulted her shore,
her protection, as he slammed his rage
against her, under somber, swirling skies.
She pleaded, tried to reason with him,
even sang a song, of the love between sand and sea,
but his relentless rage continued,
for she had taken up with the sun,
and he could not bear to see her golden sands.
To save herself, she bowed her head,
put up a fence to fend him off,
but he struck it down, “Let your sun
shine on a broken fence.”
Then, depleted from his fury and the change of tides,
the sea retreated, dragging as many
pieces of her with him as he could.
The sun shone on what remained.
Talking to the Clouds 