Sometimes it can feel like life is a dark raging sea. This poem is about that feeling.
Until the Dawn Breaks
Fear, pain and agony of a crying heart, swaying amongst the current, rocking the ship back and forth, 10 foot waves almost knocking the ship into a twist of despair.
She looks up as the dark shades of gray and green surround her, signs that a horrendous storm is underway. She gasps silently, “What’s next?”
A raindrop falls upon her nose—just a little tickle at first, then it begins to pour, her body quivering in pain as the drops beat the surface of her entire body.
Standing there, soaking wet, she feels the water running down her legs, her feet now swishing in the puddle under the hard wooden deck.
Her lip begins to tremble as she holds the rope so tight, her knuckles become white as the snow on a cold winter day.
She tries to hold her composure and almost succeeds for a second or two when the ship shifts suddenly, almost knocking her off her feet; but she stubbornly holds on for dear life.
Amid the loud bursts of thunder, piercing the drums of her ears, and the almost paralyzing fear of lightning striking all around her, she’s done all she can do. She closes her eyes and utters a prayer. A minute goes by, which feels like the longest minute of her life.
She opens her eyes to see a light beam in the distance, smiling at her through the clouds.
Small stars begin to circulate the captain and her ship, amazing crystal, glittery stars.
The mystical glimpse fills her with adventure, a liberating balance on untold possibilities. Her heart is now pacing.
The next adventure begins. She immediately prepares her chart and route, willing to change direction when necessary. She’s unpredictable, and focused.
Her passion, and elegance shines like the sunbeam hitting the ocean surface, the sweet smell of her allure, her mystery, magnanimity and poise, shock and dazzle the fellow captains trying to catch up to her.
In the evening she floats among the stars, her eyes glimmer as she catches a glimpse of a shooting star.
Poem by Dana Petras