A Question for the Morning.

‘Where have you been?’ I ask.

    “I’ve been lost, temporizing, and asleep....”

[Her fingers slide up her sleeping mask.]

    “…where love’s promises rarely keep.”


‘But did I find you, or did you find me?’

    “I rode the swell through the cold, through the rage…”

[Her past left behind, swallowed by the sea.]

    “…and found the calm, my anchor, my sage.”


‘Was that you all along.., the song in my head?’

    “I sang for so long I lost myself though not my voice…”

[She listens now, as she rises up in bed.]

    “…and found the melody floating in the noise”


‘But wherein lies the meaning? In the sea or in the song?’

    “You’re searching for something that can never be found…”

[She’s tired of giving answers she’d known all along.]

    “…so stop searching now.., my feet have touched the ground.”