POEM TITLE
Standing Still
POEM
Standing Still
Born of lightning, the storm swallowed up
The sky, left little of air besides sea-drop
Heavy clouds, and split in two the night, split stones
In jagged halves and licked with malice the shore.
Before erupting into bestial black,
It merely roiled, rattled like a potted
Lobster, and we said we were safe, had seen
Worse storms than this. We wore pride on our backs.
That was before. Before we heard the cries
Of gulls like women’s voices break apart
the night, before the air heaved itself
like thick blackness on sea, as slick as pitch.
When it was done, the little we had left
We shared — built of brokenness a solid
Shape. It’s nothing to us now, the past,
Forgotten as a distant injury.
Listen to the crashing of the sea.
Hear rattles on the thick, stone-studded streets.
Some paint the sea. It sits for them as once
We saw it sit. You’ll barely hear it roar.