I'm Not Waving

I feel the current pull and drag me,

jerking me this way and that,

I tilt my head back and gasp for air,

cold water fills my ears.

Life’s waves and worries and stresses

crash over my head and push me

down towards the dark depths beneath.

I kick and thrash as hard as I can

fighting against the current and the tide,

still gasping for air, can feel myself going under,

uncertain how long I can hang on for.

Poetry grabs my wrists and pulls me towards the shore,

her grip soft but firm, reassuring.

As I lie coughing and spluttering on the cold sand

poetry gently sits me up,

wrapping a blanket tightly around me,

telling me I’ll be okay.