by Maria Ragan

Created on: February 15, 2009

Grief is like an ocean

the waves nipping at my ankles,

gently gnawing indents in my naked exposed heels, they brush and disturb my balance,

giving no rest, no security.

I take a deep breath and try to steady myself

only to be knocked down by an Oregon coast

sneaker wave,

gulping down salty water

and rubbing my stinging eyes,

I get up again.

Maybe tomorrow the moon will forget

to pull the strong tide in and out,

maybe tomorrow my feet will

be soothed with what I once

considered beauty.

I choose for now to silence the rhythm

that used to rock me to sleep,

I push with all my strength

against all odds.

Maybe tomorrow...

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