Just How Far You Can Swim

It is the melancholy speaking, wondering
just how far in the ocean you could swim
before, inevitably, your strength would fail you.
The morning ghosts, never cheerful, whispering.

You’ll never know. Not an inherently strong sort,
you have proven strong enough
to push past the whispers of the morning
and replace them with soft phrases of your own.

Reminders. Truths. People love me. God loves me.
I do not need to know why, Only
that I have worth and that while I will never cross
every horizon in front of me,

there are one or two left I may yet conquer.

And if I get to the place
where there is no conquering to be done?
I can smile and look back at battles won and lost,
but always fought.

About this poem

This is what poetry does for me. I was in my (all too normal) dark morning place as I began to write. A few stanzas later, I was declaring victory. Just spewing changes me. Part of my preparation to beat my depression. If my poetry has not been honed over decades, my “Poetry as weapon” has been.

A poem about that depression. The journey. The battles we fight, all of us. About aging. Faith. The power of love. The ocean. Pride of what I have survived and how I have emerged from it all. It’s amazing what you can pack into a few stanzas.

Be well. Travel Wisely. Be kind.

Tom