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
