Leaving the Island (Written October 18)

Leaving the Island


I can just make out what was left behind,

The lighthouse at the tip of the island,

The trailers on the beach, the people


Fishing from the rocks, the entrance

To the marina, the church steeple

In the little village, the inn


Where we stayed, the woods

Where we went walking, the lupins

By the side of the road, the distant


Rumble of thunder, the storm

That engulfed us, the flashes

Of lightning, the feeling


That we might not make it out

Alive, as we were sent reeling

Like outcasts of a ruined band.

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