9/4/2017
Threatened by the flood of invisible suppression,
I contemplate my next move.
Do I wait out the ever-rising tide?
What do I have to prove?
Or do I wade through the murky water:
seek higher ground?
Leave my soggy belongings behind?
The thought makes my heart pound.
Even without my soggy belongings,
I carry baggage with me.
I make the stony, somber decision
to take my baggage and flee.
I flee to a place far away,
baggage tightly in hand.
I have finally found solid ground
for my weary legs to stand.
Even in this new, dry place,
my baggage weighs my down.
I dream of the life I left behind;
I wish I would have stayed and drowned.