The Years that Divide us Must be Undone
Our season is on us, and welcome she comes,
the years that divide us must be undone,
for we do not prosper, in half light live.
So unbreak my staff, my books to me give,
from wreck lying fast-shackled below salt brine,
salt lids slow crack open to protest crimes
never yours, nor mine, broke yet unbroken,
wet lips mutter truths that cannot be spoken.
While full fathom five, our love fast does lie,
slumbers years down here, it beats still alive,
bathes in our memories, seeking to thrive,
in yearning looks up towards far blue skies,
probe cloudy fingers through grey opaque waters,
combs fate’s fallen son and plunged daughter.
Within thickened weed, time’s predators lurk,
corral orbed shoals, who turn wheels of murk,
spin tales of betrayal, doctor yarns of deceit,
skinder prattle of hurt; headlines our defeat.
This season becomes us, awake love, awake,
stretch far your mind’s touch, my open hand take,
bestir us, bestir, from long untouched depths,
we’ll rise up from entangling seabeds yet,
Prospero’s Tempest blows hard passions strong,
and those years that divide us will be undone.