My darling poetess

pilot of waves

No simpleton man
could bleed you dry
by steel knives,
break your
saline dipped skin

You are the oceanic Joan
commander of  levee breaking tides
mother to night tentacle creatures
lighting the sky
for stars to find their way home

What ocean
would allow full dominion
by a man
over your destiny

For your life
to expire,
if not by
its own hand

It was not your time
to be carried on the backs of
weeping whale giants,
on the shoulders of prayer tides
towards mirrored horizon

So rest easy of your night terrors,
your sleep cradle is disturbed
only because

You are not yet home
amongst your gentle giants
resting between
sheets of surf

Your lungs are not yet
emptied of words

Your body, still lite
as air

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