Struggling against the waves,
gasping for air,
having fought against them for
so long that it is now more by habit than choice.
Resisting the urge to give in to the tides, to slip into the dark and utter stillness
beneath the tumultuous storm...
knowing in my heart that such a choice would take
those I hold most dear below as well. Grasping for a handhold on things
insubstantial, stuff of dreams, hope slipping from my fingers like water and air.

Going under, suffocating slowly,
then with nothing left but sheer will, giving a powerful kick, thrust upward to
do battle again, in this struggle
I must endure all alone. Searching, always searching,
still believing,
that someday I will find peace
on the solid shore of my own
being, and
on a rock of