Long-suffering is a Storm

Iris of grey courting green, as a wintry, moody sea. 
Fear pools to the black, yet brazen waves roar a tempest, 
so I cannot be moored amidst you, but I cannot be free. 
The winds keep bellowing, and I am a careless nymph. 

Relentless inquietude; Steel-hurling eloquence. 
How you drown Nereids trying to save them and braid their shimmering strands to yours.
The more I pardon a deluge, the more it surges and gulps me into the chill.
Limbs punctured by ice, I am too weary to swim to shore. 

Truth-quavering chrysalis, liminal, held firm within my heart.
Is Maera to be reborn in seafoam of the unkissed, 
when I float upon its soft melancholy? 
"When is my time?" I keep begging the quiescence, 
and the erratic sea glowers green.