Looking for the spaces
between the pounding waves
to take a breath
and fight the tide again.
Waiting for a break
between the blows,
so that I might find my feet
and start fighting back.
The critical thing
in these dismal moments,
is holding on
and not succumbing to the voice
that sits,
perched heavy
on your shoulder,
whispering in your ear;
“You cannot stand the storm.”
The voice is right.
The waves will drag you low.
The fists will beat you down
and the wind will blow.
you will be shattered,
and scattered,
like dust in the wind,
but we come back again.
The only way we die
is if we quit
and even death
is not the end of this.
The will
can stand
past time,
and death
and life
as we
know them
are a lie.
So, I breathe
and wait,
for the moment
I will retaliate.
The storm
will pass.
The enemy
will turn
to dust and ash,
and I
will still exist
on some level.
Never quit.
HG – 2021
