The Ocean I Climb

I row with thick oars.
Climbing and falling
mountainous waves.
At the top of each
gargantuan crest,
I look ahead.
And see only sea.
Fear and hopelessness
stand outside my fortress,
an epic siege they’ve created,
ready to storm the gates.
The bow of my boat hits the crest,
And I fall, yet again.
I see the ocean valley below,
And like so many others for so long now,
“what’s coming?”
I know.

And still, I row,

in front and behind
I'm surrounded.
No land in sight.
My arms wilting in pain,
Yet somehow I fight.

Unbounded memories invade my mind,
the forest and trees of my youth,
the shelter from within.
Smelling the pine pungent and clean,
My feet planted on the cloudlike blanket
millions of pine needles,
Softly, they comfort.
The firmness of Earth
is what I desire.
Within my mind,
Within the ocean
I dwell
amongst the trees;
thick dark trunks,
they stand before me.
They stand behind me,
guarding me, imprisoning me,
yet, like benevolent wardens
they allow me to roam
amongst their brethren;
the place I go when overwhelmed
by the ocean that lay before me.

And so, I row.

My mind is my sanctuary,
the imagery is real,
as real as the ocean,

that I must row.

I am tired yet I am strong.
I find my strength,
reaching the next crest,
with no land in sight.

I find the shelter
within myself,
my forest,
my fortress,

I’ll continue to row.