Random Poem: The Cleansing

The Cleansing
When it left
there was no final struggle,
no climax of battle.
When it left there was
only a gentle subsidence,
like the outwards tide
at Pakawau, a slow
exhale of breath.
I had to stop for a moment
to listen for its silence,
to ensure that it was
really gone.
It took some time
to unwind myself
from its absence,
to quietly explore the
exposed tidal pools
and to wade amongst
the sea anemones I found
waving their rose-coloured
tentacles in my soul.
Although it took from
me its volume it did
not leave me smaller.
It removed only excess,
and afterwards I was
more precisely crafted,
and therefore stronger.
It took a while to know
that it was really gone,
but once I was truly
certain I could not
mourn its passing.