After the Flood (Poetry)

The tide has turned, the deluge past -
those tears that raged so hot and wet -
the ark of self becalmed at last,
surprised to find it's floating yet,

where vague regret like flotsam bobs
on gentle waves, nostalgia tossed
damp offerings to sunken gods
as dawn reveals all is not lost.

Despite the storm, the heart survives -
battered, salvaging the dregs.
Subdued but stubborn, hope's alive
and struggles shorewards, wings in shreds,

pursued by doubt in hungry shoals,
attracted by the scent of fear
that taints the water, chills the soul,
while faith waits patient and sincere,

anticipating some sure sign -
a rainbow and a soaring dove -
one distant glimpse of the divine
to comfort unrequited love.