23 November 2016

Raw angst was
the face of the sea,
churned from within
by deep disturbance.
Tragedy’s mask
had nothing on it,
so creased its brow
with urgency, the kind of urgency
that stirred and stirred,
and went nowhere;
cold sea aboil
with anxiety,
only time, and a change
of direction could remedy.

Philip Kuepper
(16 November 2016)