MOURNING TIME

you stand there so still
feet dug into the wet sand
your back facing toward
the open dune with your arms raised
as if pleading; wanting to be taken
you cannot live without her, so you
pray to be with her now, as breezes coo
and caress, too gentle, almost kind
as if trying to soothe your broken heart
so the waves only puddle there at your feet
not the waves you were hoping for; ones
to push you out into deeper water, to
take you to her, it does not happen; you are
left standing there; alone, dejectedly still
as the sea whispers back, it is not your time

by Michael Perry