Sailorwoman

A light!

Far, far away,

blinking.

The boat rocks,

my stomach churning like the 

waves 

beneath me.

She inches closer,

and the light is no longer

blinking

but rather, a sweep over the black inky sea,

a quick 

turn over the land,

coming back to me just as fast. 

Fast so I can see the jagged rocks,

created from years of 

erosion and weathering,

made to 

rip apart any vessel that dares to near,

and turn her away, just the sound of the engine

propelling me from the cliff’s teeth,

though I can hear them calling to me,

beckoning me.

Sirens don’t penetrate through the shrouded darkness

that is my mind

But these rocks are my sirens,

looking so much like the land I yearn to find;

to feel, under my sore and aching feet.

The light continues to shine

through my eyelids, 

even as the light in my brain shuts off

and the white caps lull me to sleep.