To Live Is to Be Brave

In a world of nonstop doing

Where worth is measured by accomplishment

Clocking in and out of consciousness

Half-awake in a monotonous trench,

We berate ourselves for dragging our feet

Rising up in the wake of a million defeats

Putting smiles on a hollow and weary face

Giving energy despite the inner displace.

No amount of promotion, recognition, or fame

Compares to the victory of daily breathing

When despair is the foe, and life is to save

To fight is to live, and to live is to be brave.

Riding the Wave of Grief

Such a minuscule reprieve

A blink of relief

Before the wave of grief rises again

Blindsiding, capsizing, crushing from within

Dissolving our freshly-paved resolve

To finally be rid of the pain.

While you catch your stolen breath

While you release those captive tears

Remember the pattern of waves:

To rise, to impact, to retreat.

It is a passing catastrophe

A momentary disaster

The ebb and flow of healing loss

Opening vaults once sealed by despair

Where unresolved hurts can find release.

So dig your toes deep into the sand

Clench your fists as you raise your chin

Ride this wave as it floods through your breaking soul

Let it purge the sadness left in your veins.