I stand at the edge where the water begins,
Feel a pull in my chest,
The tide drawing in.
The urge like a whisper,
Like salt on my skin,
It says “Come under, let go, give in.”
My thoughts like the wave crash, tumble and spin,
Each one a stone I carry within.
I try to say “They're just clouds in the sky,”
But they’re swollen with rain,
They’re not passing by.
Grief is an anchor, dragging me deep,
Pain pounds in my chest to a merciless beat.
Sadness clings like a storm-soaked shroud,
And inside me, the shame, silent and proud.
I try to surf it, this wave of despair,
To ride it, to balance, to come up for air.
But it towers above me, too heavy, too fast,
I’m caught in its pull, I’m stuck in its grasp.
I can’t breathe. My chest feels like its caving in.
Is this how it ends, or does something begin?
A part of me pleads “Please make it stop,”
Another still fights to rise to the top.
But somewhere below, in the deepest part,
A flicker remains, a stubborn heart.
It kicks against current, gasps at the sky,
Not ready to go yet, not ready to die.
I want it to end, this insufferable pain,
But I have to suffer, I must try again.
So I’ll try and float now, bruised but alive,
Not surfing clean, but I still survive.
And maybe that’s all I can do for today,
Not ride the wave, but not drift away.