Sea Sleep

Sea Sleep

Fr. Ryan Sliwa

Through an open window at my head,
The wind heaved gently in the night.
The black air in the small room,
The low cot, gave cavernous quiet.

Only the trees spoke, the rough sea-
Abiding pines, in their courteous whispers.

These gusts from the summer sea arrive
At the end of their long scoop
Over numberless meridians,
To terminate in lungs and ear.
The anchoress of Norwich knows:
A wellness holds the thing, all things—
A breathed and reaching wellness,
               Regardless of the miles and the night.

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Fr. Ryan Sliwa
Poet & Priest

Ryan Diocesan priest serving in New England and is the author of New Nazareths In Us published by Cenacle Press

This essay is featured in Ekstasis Issue 10 Print Edition

Photography by Georgi Kalaydzhi