It is a never ending task to bring together the two coasts of the sea.
The reddest of reds will fill the shores to conjure, to fulfill the prophecy.
Three winters ago the waters froze so deep it felt as if we’ve never seen spring.
Three winters ago I was a bird with an injured wing. All I could do was sing.
But the waves kept crashing on my knees, they were begging me to stay.
Two coasts of the sea sunk more and more into the foolishness of dismay.
Picking one was the destiny, staying on both was a suicide, by hanging.
The antidote to my own sentiment is buried under the corpses I left without thanking.
-JK
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 