softly swaying in the light of the morn

a moan is ‘leased, brief and faint

floating like the whisper of a breeze

heads lean close, straining to hear

straining to catch the eerie wail

the breaking heart made audible

made real on the wind

carried away to soothe the soul

stripped of pain

left bare

clean

 

to start again

to grow strong

stronger than before

able to stand

resolute and unshakable

alone, but not lonely