my selkie

now on the precipice of the sea
red hair twisted in the rage and despair
my selkie weeps, into the sea.

eyes devoid of spring,
only barren winter laying over the irish green.

still the fin folk call her name
singing of the comfort and release that the sea will give her,
and the escape that she desires.

spray stings her face,
whether sea or tears, her eyes leak both.

heart snapping, bloodless from to many leaking wounds.

skin in hand, tightly embraced,the storm rages.
and she sways in the gale,
skin in hand,
longing to slip into it,
and into the healing embrace of the sea.