Writer | Editor


Photo by Emily Ibarra

Eye of the Storm

She was the rain. She was the ocean.

She was the waves, and the vessel, the chaos and the calm,

Both always just below the surface.

She waits with bated breath and a watchful gaze as I move carefully through her waters.


Her waters so clear and reflective, in an instant would shift.

It would begin with a glance. A soft touch, and I’d hear her murmur,

“I’ll always come back to you, my dear.”

I’d feel the pull, from below my waist, below my feet.


Familiar dark clouds gather in her eyes and my heart sinks,

As I know we’re headed towards open sea and rough waters.

I cling to the ropes and brace myself for what always comes next.

Foolishly, I loosen my hold and she casts me off and into the brine.


My breath catches in my throat,

And I watch as ripples expanded around us in every direction.

Thunder in my ears, the sky lighting up with each spark

I watch, frozen as she rages from high above me.

Her storm would build, the roar and crash of waves against rocks filling my ears.

She never knew her own strength,

Or the wake that would follow in the path she carved out through the waves.

Waters once so still, perfect and calm like glass, are all at once upended by her fury.

I slip below the surface, and revel in the calm that follows.

Above me I can see the flashes of light and the squall grows with her every breath.

I pass my fingertips through the brine and push away from the wreckage

Hollowed out shells of lovers past are everywhere and always waiting with arms outstretched

On the surface her siren song rings out,

Carried by the wind and echoed in caves that line her shore.

Rocks that dot the surface of the water are slick and wet with ocean spray,

And I think, not for the first time that her storm is louder and stronger than anything that I would ever be.

When I finally relent, and let the current carry my body out to sea,

She reaches for me, pulls me close, and we both sit still in the eye of the storm.


Arielle Mullen