The tide

you crumble softly, quietly,

subtle in your glorious defeat. 

you are alone— Solitary

Strength— leaving behind little crumbs, hoping,

Praying you will one day find your way back

Home, or someone might follow them to you. 

 

you are drowning, parts of you— 

who you once were— diluted in the water.

dissolving away 

parts of you 

you thought you owned.

 

you are eroding,

microscopically etched away into a vast sea,

leaving sharp edges behind, broken glass

Shattered never to be whole again. Your screams 

 

Suppressed by the deafening roars of the waves

crashing onto the shore. 

you idly pull against the tide, kicking,

scratching, flailing about, Desperate to be freed,

to spur the slightest disruption: a ripple

in the midst of an ever-rolling sea. 

 

But your swings are no match for the 

Mighty Arms of Poseidon. 

 

you are Poseidon’s Prisoner. Property. 

He strings you along to wherever He so desires.

you must know how small you are.

Insignificant, powerless. pulled pushed stretched yanked

back and forth. dizzy…

 

someone hear my cries 

someone soothe my screams 

someone dry my tears 

someone help me. please 

 

salt water fills your lungs, 

your insides, sizzling—

and you scream, your throat burning

 

burning a fire in the vast sea. 

your rage surging in flames beneath the surface.

but the tide suffocates your fire.

You Fight for Every Breath.

 

your feet grope for the shore but the ground has

fallen from beneath you.

you must know how far you have drifted…

 

Still, you desperately grasp for anything that feels

familiar, as a child reaches for their mother.

for anything that feels warm

Like Home.

 

But alas, all you feel is the water slipping 

through your fingers, mocking your futile efforts

the disappointment creating a sort of

hole in the pit of your stomach.

 

Shattered Hope.

 

Oh, how to trust what you see before you 

when you know your sight is impaired, flooded by

the salt water to which your eyes have become

accustomed

 

and you’re not certain 

of whether the 

salty searing sensation in your 

eyes are from the heavy waves or the

salinity of your own tears–

 

tears which once belonged to you but are now

carried off by the tide. seamless

as they leave your eyes and float away.

mingle with the dark mischievous waters

until they become One with them. Betrayal.

 

you desperately call out for help but

the rest of the world lives on the shore. 

sunbathing, listening to the calming sounds of the ocean

which almost looks… peaceful

from afar.

 

Can you hear me?

my moon

I am afraid. 

Cold. Frozen solid. 

I cannot feel. I cannot move. 

And each time I try, I fail. 

 

I am empty. 

I am void. 

I am waiting.

 

Everything, the world, the stars

Have turned off. 

And what’s left is silence,

Darkness. 

 

Now, I gaze up at the blackness of the cold night sky, 

A sky I don’t recognize,

And I spot a silver sliver of moonlight. 

So bold, so bright;

Stunning in its solitude. 

Shining brightly in the dark black sky. 

 

It is a waning moon. The kind that becomes lesser every night

Every night decaying, dying, declining into nothingness. 

But nonetheless, it shines tonight. 

Bright. Stable. Strong. 

As if it could shine forever. 

But I know it won’t. 

 

And so it wanes. And wanes. 

And wanes until one night

I look up into the sky and all I see

Is nothingness, void, darkness. 

 

On this night,

This night of darkness,

There is still hope. 

Because the moon is never actually gone. 

And even if tonight lasts an eternity

I know that though I may not see it,

My moon still exists. 

In a different place, to someone else’s eyes. 

Perhaps, to His eyes. 

 

And so I sit in the darkness. 

And remember. 

And one night, I open my eyes and gaze up into the dark black sky 

And I spot a star.

CHANGE

Life is fickle.
In a split second, everything can change,
In the first cry of a baby,
In a last breath.
I’d like to think there’s a reason.
A method to the madness.
That every winding path is meant for a destination.
But I don’t know. I don’t know anything.
I guess that’s why they call it hope.
And not truth.
In life, there is intense happiness, intense warmth, intense love.
There is also intense sadness, intense anger, intense pain.
It makes up the balance of the universe.
We cannot have one without the other.
Sometimes, I think I’d rather not have either side.
That I’d rather live in the middle.
But now, I know that that is not living.
Because in every intense moment of pain, there is a newfound appreciation of every intense moment of love.
In every intense moment of fear, there is a new reason for hope.
So yes, I do believe there’s a reason. No matter how small or how large.
There is a method to the madness.