Analysis of The Fisherman's Wife

The Fisherman’s Wife
Dusk whispers daydreams of warming her man
And dawn pretends he’s not gone, again.
She loves when he comes home from working away
strong arms embrace her, rough hands touch her face.
But thundering skies rouse newfound fears
of losing her husband, and she fights back the tears.
Yesterday morning, he’d sailed at dawn,
then radioed in as the gusts grew strong.

As his voice, through static, hollow and dry
 said he loved her, she tried not to cry.
“A storm’s blowing in, but we’ll be all right
We’re heading in now baby, see you tonight.
She’d swallowed hard, not sure what to say
and hoped for the best in her usual way.

When morning wakens and he hasn’t come home,
lured by lyrics of the wind’s lonely song,
she bundles in gloves and his warm wool coat,
breathes in his scent, and steps out to the cold.
There on the rooftop, mist soggy with brine
flies by a raven, but she pays it no mind

Below, lies a canvas of waterscape scenes
where beauty lies dying like day-old dreams.
The horizon, blurred by the stormy grey haze,
she watches, intently as dawn becomes day.
But her heart feels the truth now, and hope goes away.
The fisherman’s wife whispers “Holy mother I pray,
please end his suffering.”  As she speaks, her soul
feels how he needs her.  Then the feeling goes,
blows out like a candle left in the wind.
There, in a heartbeat, life beautiful ends.

The angels have buried her husband at sea
leaving her alone with their life’s memories.
She gazes into heaven’s thin empty air,
chapped blue lips whisper a prayer,
words fading to shadows from thoughts,
and she steps away, for the last time,
from the cold widow’s walk.