I asked for peace and quiet descended,
a silence pressing, a mounting rainstorm
that banishes summer from Southern states
and washes my windows clean.
I asked for peace, but taking what was given,
I received silence, a muted momentary lull,
the foaming crest of a crashing wave
that scrubs my hair with sand and fills
my lungs with salt and prayers.
I asked for peace, but received solitude,
the fog descending from hills long frostbitten,
a fog that will vanish if the sun
ever rises, if it chooses to give me light.
HEIDI TURNER is a writer and musician from Maui, Hawaii. She recently finished her Master's at Azusa Pacific University, where she fostered a love of postsecular and digital literature, the Inklings, and caffeine. Her work has been published in Gravel Magazine and Linden Avenue Literary Journal.