The Final Storm

I lay dreaming as the yardarms howl with ghosts upon the wind, screaming down: “Your crew is lost, it’s mutiny once more” One voice to dare my choices strong and shed that bitter sleep, my past the drowning child of its dark and rocky shoals As tears release and fall like rain the tiller begs forgiveness, old memories drift away in fear and sink within themselves The time has come, as fate calls out to man the heavy sails and chart a course into the swells —one final storm to brave (Dreamsleep: March, 2021)