The Storm

October 23, 2012
Waters are rising,
But there is no high ground.
All that’s left
Is this crumbling peninsula,
Upon which I must tread.
Surrounded by dark waters,
Menacing and cold..
My progress is slow
Down the tiny trail.
Winds tear at my hair,
Threaten to blow me over.
Sharp rain drops slice my face.
I’m blinded by the storm
And want nothing more
Than to give up.
I know not where
This thin pathway leads,
But it is my only remaining hope.
Waves build and lash out,
Crash against my legs,
Making walking impossible.
I so desperately want
To fall down,
To slip in,
To let myself be carried away.
But a deeper desire
Is running through my veins,
A desire to overcome.

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