No one is coming to rescue you.
No one is coming to make
the sea of your life
any less rough.
All storms and beauty and miles of water undone.
It is this way for each of us.
We all get swept away
tossed around
face in the sand
gasping for air.
Alive, almost gone, alive, alive, alive.
And then we see that breath
is a luxury of lungs
promised to no one.
And in that knowledge
we begin to float.
Turn our tender and once fearful face
to the sun.
Appreciate everyone.
I once harbored an anger.
It flowered so deeply inside of me
that you could see it growing wild
across my eyes.
Then the water came
to show me how I could not garden
this pain.
How nothing would ever grow.
So I headed to the ocean
and left it
in the bend of a wave.
We are here for such a brief time
and in the midst of it all
some days there is a surrendering.
A trust.
Bones of the body
finally relaxing into
the never-ending
ending of things.