Adrift in the unsaid
my vision lacks the depth
to pierce the gloom
and discover
what might be enough.

This monotonous fight
leaves me coiled
in the cyclical silence
anticipating the moment
I draw the line
and realise I have swallowed enough.

Anger, grief, shame and love
what could ever calm
that raging tempest?
I want to scream my truth
from the pit of my stomach
but nothing feels like enough.

My strained bones, disowned
have carried that weight
undermined by the decades
of forcing down too much
In desperation I seek something,
anything
that might be enough.

Photo: Mark Freeth, Creative Commons.