On Waves of Song
Relief comes in as slowly as a tide
On gentle coasts but feels as urgent as
The tidal bore up Severn. Hope had died
Until you spoke and now I feel like jazz
Is jiving in my bones. The slowness came
Because my heart was made of numbness, so
My blood required some time to grasp and claim
The meaning of your words. Your mercied bow
Shot out its message and my target soul
Received the golden tip. Bright ripples spread
Out from the therapeutic wound and roll
Like peace and melodies towards our bed.
..The symphonies will surge, and swell, and pound.
….This music will encompass the profound.