Maelstrom

There’s a collective storm brewing

the likes of which we’ve never seen.

Words that whispered through our minds

are on news feeds for all the world to hear.

The cacophony cuts like a knife,

interrupting peaceful dreams

and guiltless sleep,

driving us from sylvan glens

to roam among the brambles,

life’s blood dripping scarlet

upon the thirsty ground.

Hope is all we have left,

a refuge, burning bright,

the eternal flame of a single candle

chasing away shadows

in the eye of the storm.

A glorious winter sunset over English Bay (Vancouver, B.C.) representing hope and light.