They come and go

washing over me

and over me

and over me.

Less like a gentle, rolling wave on a bright,cloudless day

and more like those that come with the storm on a dark, ominous night

crashing white and violent into the shore of my mind.

Each time a little clearer

a little bolder

a little louder.

Scaring me.

Pushing me under.

Paralyzing me with each crash.

They attack when my back is turned

as I rush to the shore

but can’t quite escape their wrath.

I cling to all that is good

hoping that will be enough to sustain me

and wait for the waves of thought to subside.

I’ve barely caught my breath






I’m at their mercy once again and

hating that I have no control.

I hope that they do not take me over

because I do not know what would happen.

But, I do know what would happen,

and that is what scares me most.

I would cease to exist,

overtaken by the wave

at the mercy of its power and persistence.

No longer here nor there

but rather washed away at sea.





I am afraid to write because of what I will find, but I am afraid not to write because of what I will never know.