Bound in my bones, I’m trapped in mortal weight
While souls of clay and stone sail wild and free;
As one who loved—betrayed—disdained to wait—
for gifts which Time alone grants from the sea.
Beguiled by men of tiny stance and heart,
I sink my feet in brine like mangrove roots.
A shadow pained, divided from my art,
I bless the swamp’s concealing leaves and shoots.
They hide the heedless waves that scorn my will
While toil I, other gazes to ensnare:
So river, sand, and breeze o’er my edge spill,
I’ll other lovers catch, and twice as fair,
To speak the words of loss with tongue of fire—
The vexing sea will gain her heart’s desire.