Waves crash as I hear her drowning, slowly fading down to the deep, her legacy unfolded;
Burning fires hit his feet, as he can do nothing but watch, pray and cry, Hades guardian;
Two souls forever separated, both now dead, and yet both mourning, profoundly;
The sound of winds churn fast throw my tears within the breeze, racking endlessly;
I stand by the water ~ waiting, hoping, praying for all to stop, yet it’s all unyielding.
The gifts of the Gods and Goddesses haunt me as dead voices fill my head, infinitely;
Pounding, the voices churn, speaking, singing, shouting, chanting; “No, not that”;
If “not that”, well then what? Destiny called him; then destiny changed her mind;
Repeatedly my head spins; he says “I botched it. I botched it. Poetic justice, Anthea”;
As down deep, she drops like a battered ship bottomed out, barnacles beckoning.
Hope eternal crashes hard upon them, and now lays flat on me, pressing like stone;
As a well planned battle siege in a wind swept sea, the boom lowered with no warning;
Dorset’s churning shores pelt my face hard, sand stinging in my eyes, now blinded;
Do I jump in to join her? I think this through as the rain matched my tears at dockside.
No, the thundering call of Sandy chanting tells me “suffer on, suffer on, suffer on”.
— Anthea —