Whitecaps

The tide of my emotions
runs high tonight,
crashing against sea walls and jetties
that I have constructed
within my subconscious
to control the flow.

An emotional ocean,
a ripped-open river,
a storm-swollen stream,
a lake lacking luster,
a broken brook,
a puddle of pity
a maddening mud-hole
a soul-less sewer,
and a damaged dam:

The feelings flood from my caverns.
They sweep me away.
In their vastness,
I am lost--
Alone,
adrift,
a child….
again.

Copyright by Ron Hudson, December 23, 1992.

Categories: poetry HIV/AIDS