From this Stone

I am not sure who
I am
For I lose myself
In loving others
Only to be the
Battered for
Their ram

My salty,
solitary tears
At times help,
Help me float
As I drift out,

I can not do it all,
Never was meant to,
I am tired
Of hurting,
And of being alone,
This way,
I fear
my heart calcifying;
And still of me
From this stone

Shifting Tides

Feel the pull
Of the tide
As it moves out
And collects;
Collects its expressed waves,
Feel the sand as it recedes from beneath bare feet,
All signs inform,
“It is coming,”
this next wave;
It is what you have been preparing for,
Bracing for;
Feel the shift in the air,
see the wave
As it emerges,
Now a crest
That too
Has been waiting;
Awaiting this very moment,
To crash;
Upon the sand
Upon the rocks and shells,
And upon creatures
In its path,
Awakening, refreshing,
With memories of the distant,
Bringing the far near,
To then recede,
With the shifting
Of the tide;

Again feel the pull,
How familiar this dance!
For we are
In all ways too
Moving with,
And as the tide.

Go to Sleep

In the dark,
Dear one,
There is peace,
And most often quiet,
But you are missing nothing,
But my audible silence
As I write this poem,
As I think these thoughts,
As I coax myself toward slumber

And alas,
Once my eyelids have grown heavy,
And my writing utensil drops,
I close up “shop,”
And I too
To sleep