Poem by Beth Kanell
First comes the wind, and then torrential rain—
there was no “eye” of peace, no silent space
but driven loss (one death) and pounding pain.
Why should I think I’d heal back, whole again
when half my hopes were his, his smile, his face,
gone with the roaring wind, the wrenching rain
and now these flooded fields that cannot drain.
My friend said, “Get a dog, expect new grace!”
But in her dark eyes, loss; trust pounds like pain.
He loved me as I am. That love’s a chain,
my anchor in this storm-soaked, battered place.
His life's blown past like wind, like salted rain.
When healing comes, it’s tentative and plain,
a tender scar, a tentative new base—
as if a second life could lurch from pain!
Adopt the dog, and bonding close again
turns out to hold a storm surge that will race
and flood: Such wind may scream, such chilled rain:
This dog insists on love. Now comes more pain
Beth Kanell lives in northeastern Vermont. Her novels include This Ardent Flame and The Long Shadow (SPUR Award winner); her short fiction shows up in Lilith and elsewhere. Find her memoirs on Medium, her reviews in the New York Journal of Books, and her poems in small well-lit places.
