What Tide Is This

Story by Caitlin Van Horn
June 26, 2014

What tide is this that pours over me, ink spilt from its quill, blotting my page - Cool is the flow, vapid as it mocks me, blurring the words that pained me to write.

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Story by Caitlin Van Horn
June 26, 2014

What tide is this that pours over me, ink spilt from its quill, blotting my page - Cool is the flow, vapid as it mocks me, blurring the words that pained me to write.

Erin_Mulvehill.jpg
 
 

What tide is this that pours over me, ink spilt from its quill, blotting my page - Cool is the flow, vapid as it mocks me, blurring the words that pained me to write.

 
 

This sea, with its dubious brow, swallows me, questioning the song on my lips, doubting its very harmonies. Deeper and deeper into the underbelly I fall, echoing a Jonah cry - Swept away, I fold, relinquishing my surmise - Frothing waves, shorn of their indifference, pull me deeper, deeper and deeper still - The ground kisses me without the slightest bend, and I break - Like a swarm of herons I fly into a thousand pieces - Every part of me, every love and remembrance - Disconnected fragments dancing a confused waltz to the lilt of my grieving heart - I try to speak but I have no mouth, I look to the heavens but I have no eyes - Every piece of me suspended in opposition, until from the azure blue a hand befalls - Gathering me like grains of sand, putting each shard back together - A potter with his clay, his kiln stoking the fire in my veins -The pain overwhelming me, my breath short under its noose -Like a bleating lamb I cry, writhing in my metamorphosis - Until all is calm and I am whole, every fissure sealed, every wound bound, soothed with a forgiving balm - Beams of tawny sunlight bequeath me with sight, and for the first time, I can see - All that is true and beautiful, every color flooding my lens - Iam wrapped in a bevy of warmth - Dry lips parted, my song heralds through the skies, a prodigal's libretto - Resounding through time and space, like a wrecking ball it breaks through all of my sorrow - All of my longing, every selfish page of my unfinished tome - Until everything held under my weight is free - What tide is this that pours over me - With new eyes I can see, I can see, I can see - For it is love, a most vehement flame.

 
 
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