Here Comes the Flood - Part Two

Here i am now, in cooler, unfamiliar climate --
With calmer winds that no longer have the strength to lift me off my feet,
carry me away to something new,
again and again.
With all valuable things tethered to something unmoving,
and thus protected,
I find myself, again, preparing for the rush of water that comes with impending flood.
The lines of such constant rising, receding
show clearly in the space between my eye and ear -
 permanent marks of change, that cannot be scrubbed away.
Evidence of brackish tide  strong current survived, if barely.

 On shore, as the water rises slowly, nodding to the filling moon,
I lick the back of my salty palm, remove a layer of white.
As if to travel backward to a place
where I did not have this protective coating 
where skin was young, more vulnerable, but braver.
 The veins present and protruding are new, though.
This is not the same hand that shakes
at the thought of your silence
where it meets my attempt at a proper ending.
 And so two years later,
at another wedding of friends,
where I will once again stand facing the crowd that you occupy,
I will do things differently.
Show myself what I have learned. 
Stand straightened, knowing in my heart that it is right to want endings, and peace. 
Send you nothing but a message of kindness,
that one day you may be able to stand tall enough to want that, too.