With sounds of silvered sand and surf inside my ears,
I stand surrounded by the storm, leaf and twig that tear
- bone fingers scrabbling at my coat -
deaf and dumb, blinded by

a wind that hurts my skin and twists the sky, clouds that
snap and whip like laundry on the line, and then break free,
pouring out a yowl more terrible than growling seas

and twining round my eyes
- leaf and branch and stone -
a memory in sepia tone

a momentary stillness, wherein to see, to know that yes,
there was a time, so long ago that colours cease,
but real, it was and yes, O yes
there was a time
- a moment brief -
when this heart knew peace.

 

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