I wish I'd conceived of this image, wounds soaked in brine, which instantly injects the entire ocean's weight and violence into the poem. I like this small, recycling verse, which is not weighed down by vocabulary or being vague. Not that I don't admire your vocabularly and the immense mind it hints at: I do; but here it is particularly successful. This is just about a perfect emotional snapshot you've taken, wrapping up years in a single instant. The line "But no longer have I any reason to pine" comes off a trifle forced for the sake of the rhyme/structure and might be scrapped. And "Catharsis" seems more label than title; why not just "Wounds Soaked in Brine," or some variant?

Regardless, it's wonderful.

deep, and well-detailed. I enjoyed it, keep up the good work.

Much love.