Perhaps Some Peace

If what sleeps is beautiful then
why not death?  On dark days
the body rises slower, its strings
and hooks taut against the soul.

I am not sleeping.  I have never slept.

Lying down, the milky mist hangs
low.  Somewhere in the night
a woman searches for her father
beneath the waves of blue & green

a stranger to the ocean, a restless rolling.

Here, beneath the sky, the same
still sky they all will see, what flies
over brings perspective, peace
perhaps.  Perhaps some peace.

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