A thousand miles out at sea
the little fishing boat capsized:
no flares went up that night,
no emergency radio beacons,
just one survivor treading water,
trying to kick off her concrete shoes,
struggling to keep her head up by
staring at the stars and the moon.

I stood on shore and I could feel it too —
icy tendrils wrapped around my heart
till it slowed. And froze. And shattered
into pieces so very small that I’m
not sure I’ll ever find them all.
Now I’m gazing on that same moon,
praying for my Love’s safe return,
wishing there was more I could do…