The wind whips around my body
And the cold and salt sting my eyes, and my bones,
And my ears are filled with the roar of the waves
til I can hardly think
and hardly see, and hardly breathe,
and I am beat down and weary and I know
I am nothing
I huddle myself into the cleft of a rock
and wait to be swallowed
The rock whispers, "open your eyes, little one
you are still alive."
And I see that it is true
© Teresa Bird, 2018
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