Ebb and Flow
In the Briny Light of Sunset
For Anne in the sunset of her life
Here, where the salt river unspools its silver tongue
and the tide, tireless, draws breath—
I stand in the hush of dusk,
the sky unfurling its fire, a blaze of glory
on water’s restless skin.
Majestic, the river bends,
carrying the salt and secrets of the sea,
its currents both balm and blade—
an ancient rhythm
of cleansing, soothing, undoing.
The water gathers my sorrow
as each wave folds back the memory
of your touch, each ripple
a briny tear spilled
for the love I cannot hold,
and yet cannot lose.
Sunset spills its gold and rose—
a benediction on the river’s breast,
and I am washed in the beauty
of what remains:
the salt that purifies, the flow that comforts,
the luminous ache of longing
held gently in the tide’s embrace.
The river—ever changing,
yet always itself—
teaches me to surrender:
to let the losses drift
into the vast, forgiving brine,
where grief and glory
are mingled in the water,
and love is never truly gone,
but brightens the world
as evening gathers, as the salt cleanses,
as the river flows on.
Our friend @CatherineCaron sent us this spectacular image of the St. Lawrence at sunset, along with a message confirming the deep bonds of friendship that tie us and make us feel much less alone at a time of our lives when waves of sorrow are unrelenting.
Your friend,
Robert
https://robertmcbrydeauthor.com/
