“Harmony of Constance” by Henry Barron
Illustration by Arts and Literary Journal staff editor Celine Shaji.
She drives back to where they used to hold each other
The once strophic wind, whipping leaves, now fills her ears with shrieks
The rhythmic cadence of the waves to which they made love now discordant
They snatch the tears pitching from her chin
She stands alone
The fishermen gone, their absence almost unnoticed, peripheral among the cacophony
She took comfort in this place, warmed by a harmony of constance
Now, the leaves have fallen, howling gusts dry the tears on her face and needle at her soul
She focuses on the waves pummeling the shore, the water constant as their love once was, now frigid and dismal
The rocks forever beaten and inured
The promise of noiseless drops of lures into water broken
In place of their love, an obscure chasm, her perception perverted by the sting of loss.
Henry Barron is a freshman pursuing a degree in Biopsychology, Cognition, & Neuroscience. In his free time, he enjoys running, playing the guitar, and writing. Henry spent most of his childhood in Monroe, Michigan, where he developed his love of the water. This affinity served as inspiration for his poem “Harmony of Constance,” in which he intended to convey the permanence of familiarity with spaces, even after losing someone that helped make those spaces meaningful.
