Widow Poem
Poetry
The waves crash onto the shore,
and the roaring of it fills her ears.
Is it going to devour her
like it did to her husband a few months ago?
The therapist says the water won’t eat her.
She says to get past those fears is to confront them.
The salty breeze nudges her forward,
closer.
She wraps her shawl tighter around her,
slow steps across the rocky shore,
digging in her heels.
Standing at the edge,
she reminds herself,
he died sailing during a storm,
not standing on the shore.
The water looms up before her,
splashing against her legs.
She scans the coastline,
wild eyes searching for someone.
Just in case she goes under.
No one’s around.
Shuttering,
she takes a step back,
loosening her breath.
Maybe another day,
she’ll try again.
(Drafted September 28, 2018).
