Susan Hattie Steinsapir

for those who lose some
sacred integral
the drifting timespace
wind carries another
wound that heals
all wounds.
the world stops
at the floating plain
we call evermore
and calls softly “all aboard”
to those who deserve
its praises.
watching those souls
depart is the wrenching,
distorted pain that knows
no one but you.
the azure mass opens up
and holds its gray hands
out to you... the sea knows
your pain.
let its warm waters soothe
your wounds, suffer your
anguish, ease your torture.

Enter its obliging arms and
know you shall hurt no more.

To Susan
-April Hiller
30 January 1996

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