the heavy swell

This is my wide Atlantic.
Each day I visit; tend to my sea,
my sea-change eyes reflected back its rippled greys.
This is the safe-harbor where I would bring you.
Love, the current shifts, now hard and fast.
The undertow of grief, disbelief.
I am here: you are gone.
The eastern seaboard, ragged coast
it streches southward to you,
my once beacon in the dark your light I long followed,
braving sharp rock, ocean chop,
now to find myself ship-wrecked in the dark,
pounded mercilessly on your empty shores.
These same thick waters that collect in the glassy eye of your viaduct.
I once watched with you from a tree-shade promonotory.
You loved me then – You and the ocean’s roar
called out my name, Hebrew and blessed.