22
Waves are crashing and yet I wait.
Seagulls circling and yet I wait.
The wind is howling in my ear and yet I still wait.
A sentiment of seclusion shields me from my sorrow.
Isolation is pounding against the shoreline, smashing into my inner workings, and
tearing through the walls of silence.
May the ocean’s gates exile me from my lack of sensibility, washing away the layers of
regret and entropy.
Trapped in the sand, I stand at the brink of my indecision.
Never will I sail these waters and yet I wait.
Bodega Bay
Grey Barlay