Poetry | New Waves

Hot heat simmers from the lines on my palms
I breathe in the pain, the fire, the steam
Exhaling comfort, I extend out my arms
I’m here

Bonded together in the rain
We raise our hearts to the black tar sky
A hum, a glow, under our furrowed brows
It comes in waves
A beaten rhythm of protests past

Not alone, we cry
Hope. Carried over oceans with a sigh

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Have been feeling a lot of ocean imagery this month in all my creative writing, here’s a teeny snippet. Photo credit @sergeebee

Ria Xx