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

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