Thursday, March 11, 2010

The Struggle

It wants me
And takes me underneath where
Willowy branches burst in rapids.

It slaps me
And forces the water to rise past
Logically pitched, pointed chins.

Gulping, gasping, sight searches for shores
Entrenched in sediment of overused dreams.
Cascading, colliding, hearts keep rhythm;
Battered by shards of seemly surprise.

It leaves me
And drops me in sunlit grass where
Painfully, water freezes as dew.

It taunts me
And waits with silent laughter while
Fatefully, I am handed a branch.

[by Cheryl; Copyright March 2010]

No comments: