There Gloom the Dark, Broad Seas

A sage might try to warn you
Not to mourn how much you’ve lost
When there’s so much left you love.

This poem’s here to warn you, no,
We don’t know what’s left from loss,
Just that loss takes all of us.

The best you can lose is you.
The worst is the rest you’ll lose.
Each one ends as last one left,

Ship sunk, no crew, washed up at last.
On some shore, some street, some bed,
No one left to lash the mast.

What’s strange is the waves won’t end.
Sailed or watched come in, they etch
And wash off each trace they etched.

You should know we know you’re sad
And not sure what to do next.
It will come to you. You’ll strive,

Seek and yield. The waves are vast.
Some part of you has to fail.
Home is when you’ve left at last.