untitled

it is more than difficult not to doubt myself
when for so long, all I wanted
(could even bring myself to want)
was to pass quietly from moment to moment –
to ignore the inner tides
so longing to turn toward another shore

I am surprised to find that even a small hope
is not such a small thing afterall
but the onset of a flood that once freed
sends its waves o’er the walls –
once placed for protection
but turned to containment by fear or necessity

© Sarah Whiteley

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