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Lost love yearns in the turning of the eve, as the sun crests upon the dark
hidden deep within the sea. Bound, forever bound, to who knows where,
as the sun rises once again and shines a burning flare. It reaches out to a
village down below the crag near the banks of the ocean where travelers
seldom grace their presence.
The villagers live quiet lives fishing from the sea. As they are surrounded
by mountains below the peaks. They put forth no airs about whom they
really are. They have but a general store, barbershop and bar. The women
folk work at the cannery, when they are not at home. Then there is the
widow Sara who lives all alone.
She works by day and sleeps by night in a cottage, lit by candle light.
Her life is torn from her eyes, when she at home and hopes to die. She
sleeps not upon her bed but on a couch, where she lays her head. In her
nights a prisoner she be, surrounded by mountains and the sea.
So rip away the shackles of the night that binds her up in chains. Liberate the
widow from a broken heart, which imprisons her in pain? Wake her from
slumbers rest beneath the depths of dreams, where everything goes a-rye
to the grievous outrage of the crow's morning screams.
A new dawning awaits her for the receiving of the coming tide as it chases
the drowning moon on the other ocean-side. It passes beyond the horizon
in the gathering of all things, which belong to the angels with their golden
halo rings. The widow cleanses her teardrops, crusted upon her sweet face,
before she sobbed once more, within her pillow all embroidered in
The takers of hearts lay waste to the widow Sara's world. Like the
cunning grey wolf hot on the path of the rabbit or the squirrel.
So daintily, the widow walks with an angel by her side. Since the day,
the town lighthouse got swept away in the storm's eye. Her true love was
in lighthouse in the offering to the sea. Then to the muse of angels, they
said let him live, let him be. The angels placed him on an island, far from the
crackling storms, where the twinkling stars dazzled to the ponderings of the
The widow's heart was in a flutter when this fable reached her ears.
The tale was so preposterous she plunged into a hush of tears. The angel
rose above her with propriety in his eyes as he listened to poor Sara wallowing
in her sighs. Much of her self-esteem drifted away with the waves, as she
bordered on insanity further and farther every day. The angel came once more
to her and took a piece out from his heavenly grace, then he gently
spirited it inward, deep inside Sara's shattered place.
In the titanic arena of existence, forever bridled in days woes, from
the pain of nights rest where souls yearn to go. Sara addle before the
dawn looking for peace with end in the wilderness of tomorrows for the
tenderness of her lost husband, her friend. She walked beyond the
walkway towards the sandy shore where she stumbles and hobbles on
the cobblestones set before.
Sara tippy toed genteelly into the washed-out sand, given by the
Lord's own gracious hand. Her protector stood beside her with dignity
of worth as whitecaps and blue waters rode on the morning surf.
Forlorn she looked into her own heart to the images of the sea, and then
yowls within herself these gasping words of pleas.
“My love, where can you be?” As the angel moved closer and
entranced Sara towards the coning deep, where she stopped on cradling
sand in faith of love to leap.
She stripped bare to her breasts as the sun slid into the west. Then
stood motionless in a moment of time with waves in rows line by line.
Unclothed before the sea, all lost in her memories she gives one last
hopeful plea, from the vestige in her eyes to the firelight of her cries.
The angel beckoned to intercede with wings stretched out
before the sea. Then in a godly voice, the angel heralded beyond
the Scottish mist for just one divine wish...
“Come ye angels upon the wind from the lost horizons beyond her
swim. Carry her forth to the island shore in the ending of tears,
so she cries no more.”
From over the horizon, the angels came in multitudes, clandestinely,
in their brethren's name. Wings stretched out covering the skies while
their angel rings glowed under the sun high and wide. They hovered
about like birds from the sea, ready to pounce heavenly. They waited
to pluck Sara from the blue and take her gracefully to the island for
those that believe Sara swam towards the reef in a
strange understanding of her belief. In hope, she would find her
husband, her man on an island called Nederland.
The villagers looked towards the radiant sun glowing brighter than
ever before. Then they wondered if the widow Sara was knocking
on heaven's door. Was she still on earth or heaven sent?
Only her trusted angel could say, as he watched the multitude
fly over the horizon to meet the end of day. The angels have left
the banks of the sandy shore, never to whisper a single word of
what went on before.
Submitted on March 23, 2016
- 4:37 min read
- 2 Views
|Scheme||X X A X X B C D A X X E F E A G X X X D D H X A I C X C A A X I J E K E H G A A A X K A E X L X M J X L X X X X X X F X K E X X B K A F M X J X X X X K|
|Closest metre||Iambic octameter|
|Stanza Lengths||1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1|
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Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
"Longing For" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 22 Mar. 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/77277/longing-for>.
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