What keeps me holding onto my old self,
preventing me from casting it into past swells?
Something detested, adored, hymned too,
haunted, cancer ridden, inflamed, grieving
and torn- yet beloved, pulled forward
into an ocean of tomorrow and tomorrow’s
swimming to hope or drowning in hopelessness,
never knowing where my forgiveness exists
or where my identity will be marooned,
my crueler self will beach
and be rescued or
die in the unlit sun.
