The Storm

The wind smells different
Under the salt there is iron
It's coming

A morning when the gulls fly low
The wind has changed direction
This knee, forty years on boats
Knows before the sky does, and aches
I went down to the harbour and said it quietly
Tie up the boats, take in the nets
The young men laughed and asked
The sky's this clear, old man
Instead of answering I looked at the sky
By evening they would know

The storm is coming, the storm is coming
The sound of the sea grinding its teeth
The storm is coming, the storm is coming
A ten-year-old seabed turns over

At midday the sky turned the colour of ink
And the waves came over the stone wall
Roofs flew, the beams cried out
People ran for the mountain, for the mountain
I sat on the porch and left the door open
Only those with something to run from run
And I watched the sea I'd known forty years
Bare its teeth
I was not afraid
What there was to lose I lost ten years ago

The storm is coming, the storm is coming
The sound of the sea grinding its teeth
The storm is coming, the storm is coming
A ten-year-old seabed turns over

In the middle of the storm I spoke to the sea
I did not shout. I said it quietly.
Ten years ago on that night you took my son
That same night a ship went down with him
What ship it was, I did not ask
I asked, and got only the sound of waves
Today I will not ask
Only do one thing
If you have something to take, take me
And if you have something to give back
Give it back now

The storm is passing, the storm is passing
The sound of the sea closing its mouth
The storm is passing, the storm is passing
The ten-year-old seabed has turned over

At dawn after the storm
The sea was calm, as if nothing had happened
But I know
The bottom has turned over
What the sea has hidden all this time
It is about to spit out