my selkie

my selkie, on this
desolate tongue of
stone, twists
and weeps in the
storm.

her longing to
return to the
heaving tumult
of her beloved sea
draws her
weeping and frail,
to this desolate
purpose

she weeps the sting
of sea and storm
and trembles her despair,
aching for her stolen pelt
and the healing balm
of the sea.

the tempest behind
her green eyes,
rivals the gale,
lashing and stinging
her frail skin.
sorrowing for her
stolen life.