11/23/98

Finally come to my senses,
  or losing them completely –
    don’t know
    don’t care
Only salvation I find
  is what I make for myself
    can’t stay
    can’t go
But I will follow your road
  til the end of my journey
    no more
    no less

© Sarah Whiteley

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

consolation

days like these the frustrations overwhelm, bitter as over-brewed tea
a tiring test of wills to bide my time, bite my tongue
I begin to doubt such things as right moments
exist for goodbyes, for final severances

there is no singular juncture, no time I can point to
and say this hour that minute is where our road ended
rather, a bruised accumulation of unfulfillments and disappointments,
an agonizingly slow dying of this skin I am ready to shed

my consolation lies in the moments to come
that are not defined by you

© Sarah Whiteley