One day these waves that toy with me,

their foam crested tops that hit me in the face

but refuse, for now, to drown me,

refuse to take me to a place where the quiet

seekers dwell, those that have finally

silenced the nagging sheer doubt live,

those crested waves will drag me down

with white pulsed fingers

and when it does,

don’t be surprised if you open the door

to me and I ask for help

and forgiveness

in a world that spits on such actions.

 

The only thing

that keeps

me breathing

is you,

you put the air

in me that

stops me

sinking

like a stone,

a brick,

a boulder

and each time I threaten to take one last breath that hurts my lungs,

you somehow

keep me afloat.

 

Losing the fight against the waves is not an option

but sometimes it is taken

out of your hands

and the Siren call from underneath the clear

water is a beautiful moment of clarity,

one that I know I will find peace within.

Ian D. Hall 2015