Group A Workshop piece

Dormant behind Waterside Creek

waits The Statue of Annadelle.

Erected with a failing heart,

loss and emptiness,

it bears his world, feeds his guilt

fuels his blistering ache.

From her dawn,

She saw no colours  - only darkness,

knew not star's night blanket,

knew not lover's bright blue eyes.

For Annadelle - she spoke with the sea,

felt earth's heartbeat

and heard her bellows.

Inevitably bitten by lover's quarrel,

through search and search his eyes grew desperate,

thoughts stampeding left and right.

Lungs tightening, legs exhausted - panting,

panting - halt.

He looked across, wind muffled his face,

eyes glaring - Annadelle tiptoes on the edge

gazing past the vicious waves.

This stormy night, rain pelts the skin,

harsh winds shake the heart.

He cries her name to receive a smile

for she knows his voice all too well.

The wind bellows, the waves slam

onto the pier leaving nothing,

her smile had gone - claimed by the sea.

Panicked eyes, trembling mouth,

disbelief paralyzed his bones,

the waves spit in his face.

Wimping on two knees

his heart gave in,

only to be revived later.

Night after night he sees her on the pier,

night after night he tries to undo,

night after night he wails and weeps,

for his crushed heart bleeds

enough to negate his prescriptions.

ACE inhibitors are of little use now.

 By Hayden Lee