Sometimes I write poetry

Tahlequah’s Daughter 

What sort of resolve does it take
to keep your own head afloat after the loss of a mother?
…Or a child?

What is that magic combination
of will and tenacity
that can reignite a drive to go on
without.
What does it take to swim
Deep
into
the depths –
and haul the sinking to the surface
push them along in reverence
while the waves crash and rock in protest
threatening your own demise

Is it instinct?
obsession?
Love?
Doesn’t love lift us?
Buoyant.
Doesn’t love awaken?
Embolden

Doesn’t love penetrate the darkness,
down into the depths
And reach down to say,
You
Must
Go
On.

Eventually, you must leave the darkness-
There is no air there.
Eventually, you must let go
and swim solo
back to the surface
Leave the dead behind
(there is no air there)
and be again.

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