Dorsal Fin

Periodically

I am sound

Not safe yet

Not out of the woods yet

Darkness so thick

That the fog is just a mist

Falling on my shoulders

Skin so clammy

Like my sweaty palms

Cold and still pouring

Salt from my pores

Tall grass dried up

Like ropes

Binding me; tied up

Wind through the leaves

Rolling up my sleeves

The worst part

Is when everyone leaves

And the field is just as empty

As my soul

Distancing myself

From the distractions

I know what I came here to do

And I will no longer wait for you

That was the choice you made

And I have to live with that

Confortable in my own skin

And that is when I shall begin

To sort it out

Without

And within

And let this dorsal fin

Guide me

Through the sea