It is hard to recall
when he lost his joy
in living.

It may have
evaporated gradually
or simply leached away

into the soil
leaving no trace.
His head can’t disentangle

the baffling conundrum
it’s all a black quandary.
It must have been

when he stood on deck
watching the ship’s wake
and the white cliffs

recede behind him
the sun smeared
a sobbing red.

He’d grasped the rails
and projected his body
into the teeming ocean.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist