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