from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (26)

yet I suppose it could be worse

the tidal pull and push

leaves me stranded

among the dune’s desolation

or drowning beneath the wave’s

cold pulse

                        so I take my meds

for ten years each morning

without fail I perform my Eucharist

without wine or blood or flesh

just chemicals I’m told will save me

from the rising tide

(February 12, 2020)

3 Comments

  1. Juke says:

    Reblogged this on .

    Like

  2. subtextures says:

    Thanks. I appreciate the comment.

    Like

  3. Juke says:

    I am moved too far by this. A truly excellent poem I wish no-one had to write.

    Like

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