Gavin Austin

Adrift

I notice, lately, your tendency for seascapes. On the easel today is a study of a solitary craft, against the hazy sky, on a turbulent sea.

What you cannot articulate, you paint. A lone voyager with eyes fixed to some new shore. Polite, subdued colours spread starkly on canvas. Treacherous waves captured, tamed by the brush in your masterful hand; jaws clenched in concentration. The scent of turpentine lingering in cloistered air.

Possibly there are as many ways to say goodbye as there are acts of parting. The boat is small, room only for one, and the uncharted waters restless. Yet, you are choosing to set sail.

I must let you go, quietly pushing from the shallows, to navigate this painted conclusion.

the silence of scars
conceals the whole truth
purple wounds heal
dressed and sutured by time
, , , subcutaneous remain

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About the Author

Gavin Austin, lives in Sydney, Australia. Gavin writes short fiction, short plays, and poetry. His work has appeared in many Australian and international publications.