The Orange-Colored Sky

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It was a dark and starless night,

three days after I set sail.

The moon was nowhere in sight,

only the wind’s piercing wail.

 

Dark clouds loomed overhead,

taking an ominous form.

Like my friend once said:

It is calm before the storm.

 

Strong waves pulled my boat,

tugging at the wooden planks.

I struggled to stay afloat

and wondered what would happen if it sank.

 

Then, there was a collision.

The waves engulfed me.

The water blurred my vision

as I was swept away by the sea.

 

I kicked, screamed, and flailed,

but no one heard my cries.

My voice was muffled by the water I inhaled

and the sound of falling supplies.

 

Realization stabbed me like a knife,

through the heart, the most vital organ.

Hopefully in another life,

I will not suffer such a great misfortune.

 

Salt stung my eyes.

However, my laugh was soft

and I sputtered and coughed

when I saw the orange-colored sky.

 

Realization tapped my shoulder,

a feeling I cannot ignore.

“It is finally over,”

I said as I laid on the shore.

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Katie Chiong