Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2018
I struggle to hold myself up
(to a standard, to an ideal,
of self-care, self-respect,
and protection of heart)
But this is a slide
that I have no power over.
This force that pulls me -
(yes, this very idea has gravity)
- This force is unrelenting,
gnawing, sneaky, persistent,
not intentional or malicious,
simply inevitable.
It is a slow erosion
taking a mountain out to sea
when I look,
and a great landslide
swiftly collapsing
when I turn my back.
Where once,
I hung precariously,
I was at least secured
in a temporary equilibrium.
But now
just one cord snaps
and I am swinging,
a safety net not yet woven.
Subconscious on Parade
   Harriet Shea
Please log in to view and add comments on poems