You may have noticed my between-poem interjections on writer’s block as the month sped forward. The last two couplets reflect my final installments of “Missing Muse,” consummating my twenty-ninth and second-to-last poem of April:
I listen for her sterling word, a sacred whisper yet unheard
but muted sound from all around derides my solemn song deferred.
She sinks below the rising din of clam’rous currents closing in
and holds her breath, a voice bereft of pow’r to pierce the ocean’s skin.
Aloft upon the rise and fall, I struggle ‘cross the rugged squall
of knotted words and thoughts unheard to seek my sunken siren’s call.
Adrift on trech’rous waters wide, I lose the stars above the tide
and in my haste―a will misplaced―I’m caught where words and waves collide.
Beneath the raucous, roiling deep, a subtle sound in coolness creeps
to soothe my ear and quell my fear and lay my voiceless woe to sleep.
The world becalmed to placid blue, I hear my siren’s song anew
and upward rise in open skies to sound her sacred verses true.