Solitude

I sit brooding silently on my rough wooden raft
Nothing stirs but the waves around my tiny craft
I search in vain for a single living thing
And find only the scum the white winds bring
The shore glides by and I'm still all alone
I see only vast empty shells of iron and stone
I wasn't the only one living high in the hills
Somehow, I escaped the savage wind that kills
There must be others, I can't be the last living soul
Then I sail into a valley like a vast shadowy bowl
The trees are still green, not all covered in white
From the center of the trees, a blackbird takes flight
The water around me is cold, blue and perfectly clear
A startled deer bolts from the shore as I draw near
All is peace and quiet in this sheltered vale
The only sound being the pop of my tattered sail
Animals skitter from one bush to another along the banks
I gaze up at the sky and give a short prayer of thanks
For here I can live, while I sit and I wait
For others who share my own tragic fate
To lose all that you know and yet still be alive
Sometimes, it seems a greater tragedy to survive.