Port After Stormy Seas, the Angel of Death I do not turn my head to see the storm That envelops the soul of my sister That tears at her clothes And scratches her arms That leaves deep purple bruises under her eyes That storms and thrashes and drags her down to the sea floor In desperate undulating heaves of stinging brine. I know what it is that troubles the water. It is the same thing that keeps the shores safe That warms my toes That tickles my neck and adds vibrance to my hair The same force that leaves me Absolutely still Is why she flails. Is this eternity? To feel at last The full weight of my own body re-turning To the rocky shore To take And to be taken In turns, as lovely as the gulls Circling, screaming, above the waves. There is one more thing I know. It is the reason she will never have What I have. My sister has albatross wings She cannot help But fly Tabetha Wilson Tabetha Wilson is an American writer who composes poetry in the swampy woods of Northern Florida. She is pursuing her undergraduate degree in English Literature from the University of Central Florida and will begin her graduate program next fall.
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February 2025
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