By Jay White,
She stood at the helm of the storm
And she was the one who could sail
The little boat of death
toward the far shore without panic.
So much good can happen out there
with the wind tearing things loose.
You can fling tears from your face
You can feel your arms and legs
welcome this vigil.
You are the person who knows,
What your boat can do
at such a rare point of weather.
My brother’s poem
in response to an insight shared,