How long does the pain remain?
It ebbs slowly, growing fainter by the day, only to come crashing back in,
The next wave of loss and guilt in the tidal rhythm of my life.
Sometimes, now, it is the muted sunset of low tide with the gentle lapping of tepid memory Swirling around my feet, teasing at my consciousness.
Tugging, dragging, with increasing urgency, pulling me in deeper,
The firm sand giving way beneath my feet, swallowing me slowly.
Then it’s crashing, swirling around me, pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling, overwhelming.
I lift my feet, stagger backwards, searching for firmer ground. Is it firmer behind? No, ahead…
I can’t stand here, I’m sinking.
I’m sorry I whisper, but there’s nobody there, I’m alone.
How long does the pain remain?
I need to step forward, and leave it behind; how?
It surrounds, pursues, subdues, consumes me,
It becomes me.
How long does it remain?
If it is me, and I am it, who is in control?
I am.
I turn around, and step forward,
Slowly, another step…
The raging, swirling, roaring is behind me.
I still hear the muted lapping.
I pursue, subdue, consume the pain.
I’m not the same.
Jo Mackenzie Green
Joanne Green 