A Turning Sea
We stand, looking to sea
clouds rising with the tide
the sun from dreaming
the light untouchable
changes with each wave
becoming brash
outrunning once more
the relentless night.
Beautiful is a stand of men, wishing
eyes full of impotent swell
which has stalled us on the edge
searching and waiting.
No one will go in
serious as lighthouses
eyes flick left to right
watching to see the passing of a bad tide
an ill wind
a turning sea
A hand is lifted to
paint the wind
a finger flicks clouds away
beckoning us to hope
An arm is raised
imploring us to trust
a convincing prophecy
of a brighter future
better told by survivors
of hard seasons
who understand the sleepless sea
If we all believe
the story of our place
the beautiful future
the shift and the swell with it
that this is our place
and we are safe
we will look no further.
