Weathering The Storm
a poem
I caught you out when I saw you the other day.
Coming in my door with the shards and shreds of your frustration dangling
From you like so many tattered sails.
You said you’d been caught by a gale
Caught off-guard, un-prepared
Been storm-tossed
Had reacted badly
Not been able to trim your sails fast enough to beat the oncoming wave and
Had met the onslaught broadside.
In a fury you tossed countless things overboard to lighten the weight
Barrels of clear water
Food enough for days.
Over the side went trunk after trunk of memorabilia
Treasured objet-des-arts
Things you have loved dearly and in quieter moments would take out to caress and talk to.
But in the moments within the storm they became weights
Pulling you down and sinking you in waves you weren’t expecting.
When you came up for air you were gasping.
Pulling yourself across my living room
Like a man drenched and shaking
You battened your hatches and tightened your lip
I sat next to you
Breathing as gently as I could
Like blowing onto a butterfly’s wings moments after it has emerged
Not wanting to scare anything off, yet wanting to help bring you aloft.
After a time you took my hand
You started with one word
Then two
Then four
Beginning with self-recriminations
Trying to talk me into seeing
How terrible a captain you had been.
I offered my own sea-tossed journey in comparison
Proof that I myself had weathered such onslaughts
Surviving with my heart intact
Still willing to go to sea again
Clear in the knowing there’d be more storms.
I watched you navigate this calmer sea
Lifting a glass to your lips you drank
Words along with liquid.
Your heart easing along with your body.
When you held my hand more firmly
Pulling me up to ask,
“Didn’t you promise me dinner”?
I knew you were back
From that stormy sea
For the night.
