Poem for Saturday

He shatters, violent, lascerated

crystal shards and tears

and love once wild and celebrated

withered, froze in winters depth

and counts lost wasted years


And lost he wanders aching,

broken, without port or land

in sight and hope seems taken

until there bright on horizon

‘gainst the tempest she does stand


She takes his pieces, safe, collected

fingers, bloodied, red and torn

he wonders lost but not neglected

and battered by the fury dark

He waits at break of morn’


Land firm beneath his feet he feels

her sun upon his skin

find home and hearth, hears church bells peel

there warmed, and safe, another chance

a new chance to begin