A Plea To Calm
Set to fire the unspoken chords
of underbrush waiting to rage
and free the land and my anger from
the premises of its bone-white cage.
Torch the tangled and embittered ends
of breath that exasperates my voice;
then plunge deep into the sea cave of my throat
and find within me, the other choice
the water-soft spirit of my blood
cooling, cascading over reason's arm
like the poetic hair of a mermaid
secluded on her island, away from harm.
Yes, help me return to those melodic strains
of drum-brushing wave and flute-flickering sun
where peace wades in bands of shadow and light
and the world of my temper is firt ravaged then redone.
-Wendy Howe