Ulyssa

It's quiet here now, after fifty years of grief, my face smooth as stone, can still see the cave, where they let me bleed, thank God I'm saved, my body under snow, taken back to the sea, rocking on the tidal flow, give me this grace, grant such serenity, attend all my feast days, geese with barren tones, sail skies as they freeze, time on their shoulder, they honk on their way, late for the season, I'm just the same, in the clean blue dawn, stripped like a tree, in my hands is a rose, the old loving need.