Grief is a turbulent ocean
that eventually overwhelms
even the greatest of swimmers.
It pulls them down
to the miry depths
and even should I manage
to struggle my way back to the surface,
I barely have time to take a breath
before the next wave slams me back down again
despite a thousand tons of water
weighing me down, I do not drown completely
I am left to struggle…hoping…no…knowing
that before I am overwhelmed completely
this storm will pass,
and I will be able to surface,
and breathe once again.
Today at dVerse, Claudia has asked us to write using bold metaphor (and avoiding weakening the metaphor with “like” or “as”).
In my last stanza, I originally wrote, “knowing…no…hoping“, but then chose to reverse the order of those words…for I know that even grief will lose its severity after time. I was quite amazed at how much that small tweak changed the entire meaning of the poem.