more than what you weathered for
Sometimes the quietest aches
comes in the deepest waves
pulling in close, then pushing away
like waves they don’t arrive with shattered sound
or warn me where they start,
they circle around, sink me down
and map their sorrows across my heart
But you see — I grasped the pull, the counted cost of standing where I’m apart,
because even waves must bend or break,
kiss the shore, then leave,
and I’m rooted in knowing I am
so much more weathered for
more than what only the eye can see
more than where I end,
I’ve unlearned and learned again
that there is so much more to me
more than these quiet aches,
more than the pull of unforgiving tides,
I am not only what the water takes
or what it leaves behind
Did you know that even seas that push and pull
still carry ships to shore?
therefore, despite the seas I was always shaped to be
