After the storm–
ask if the sea recalls
how death-winds whipped the waves–
or if now, in moonwake, there is only light
watch as the luscious peach-pink glow
of tomorrow shines, yet hear the heartbeats
of time’s whispers, aching music,
the cries of love and loss
over and again
the stars sing, and wing their colored gleaming
streams, simple truths, obscured in dreams,
what was is here,
heart-held and blood-carried, ever-lasting, within.
My poem in collaboration with the Magnetic Poetry Oracle. Jane Dougherty used a Turner image the other day, and he also appeared in a novel I was reading. I wrote the poem first, but I’m pretty sure the Oracle was nudging me to include a Turner painting with it.