Ode to the Fisherman’s Wife

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Abstract

he icy wind whips my hair, blowing my dress between my legs and tearing my heart into shards. My son holds my hand tightly; cars whizz behind me; I am completely unaware.Fog so dense the lighthouse beacon barely glows; Uncertainty grabs at my soul like a lion in a cage. The baby I carry on my hip was a chick just hatched when his boat left the shore; the child at my side a young fledgling. Worry paints new wrinkles on my face.<p id="791

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a">Angry waves foam against the rocks; Seagulls sing an elegy; Ferocious clouds above threaten another squall. The smell of tulips fill the air; I long for the smell of rotten fish.My legs buckle — Will I have to face this life alone? I stand firm — I must be strong for these children of mine. I want to fall and weep here on the cobblestone. Instead I stand tall, looking out, my hope a beacon; praying for his safe arrival.</article></body>

Ode to the Fisherman’s Wife

Ode to the Fisherman’s Wife

The salty air sprays my tired face as I slowly trudge to the harbor. The boat was due back yesterday; yet there’s still no sign of its arrival.

The icy wind whips my hair, blowing my dress between my legs and tearing my heart into shards. My son holds my hand tightly; cars whizz behind me; I am completely unaware.

Fog so dense the lighthouse beacon barely glows; Uncertainty grabs at my soul like a lion in a cage. The baby I carry on my hip was a chick just hatched when his boat left the shore; the child at my side a young fledgling. Worry paints new wrinkles on my face.

Angry waves foam against the rocks; Seagulls sing an elegy; Ferocious clouds above threaten another squall. The smell of tulips fill the air; I long for the smell of rotten fish.

My legs buckle — Will I have to face this life alone? I stand firm — I must be strong for these children of mine. I want to fall and weep here on the cobblestone. Instead I stand tall, looking out, my hope a beacon; praying for his safe arrival.