We Are Survivors of Every Morning

...I awaken with death sloshing in my mind...

 

I am washed up again on a liminal shore

Where gloaming and dawn converge

To wage their perennial war

 

Sunlight marshalls legions---dry and seething spears of sand

Besieging heavy eyes that are buried on the land

And as memories from the netherworld whisper to me

Tides of pitch invade my lungs with choking gulps of sea.

 

Half-drowned by night terrors

Half-burned by reality's terror-eye,

Do I torment my spine and lift

This dream-drenched skull to a hostile sky?

 

I keep on going under---

Drifting back into dreamcurrents and sinking down;

I keep on waking up again,

Loathe to lay my head on beach and drown.

 

I am the one who lifts up his head,

The one who has arisen from the dead.

Remembering the one now lost in darkness,

I emerge from the depths, ascending from the bed.

 

Despite this brain bogged down by fears,

I gaze up at the sneering, daymare-glower of the Sun.

My eyes are filled with grit and tears.

 

...because she gave me that final bit of shipwreck...

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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