Sadness is sweeping over me.
Not in gentle, breezing winds
Cool your face on a hot July day.
Sadness is sweeping over me.
Not like the scent of
Sweet, mellow, honest.
Honeysuckle displays no
Masquerade of something that
It is not; it is virtuous.
Sadness is sweeping over me.
Not like an ethereal melody
Filling your ears
Filling your mind
With the sounds of
Rapturous harmony,
Gifting hope to a burdened
Sadness is sweeping over me.
Sadness is sweeping over me
In battering, pulverizing
Confusing, embracing
Waves. Throbbing
With the sound of a heartbeat
As they try to force the very air
From my lungs,
Trying to clutch the very beat
Of my heart.
Waves that intimidate,
Waves that annihilate,
Waves that ebb and flow
With such voracity that
I have no time to take a breath,
No time to gather the thoughts
In my head.
Waves that confuse so
That my heartbeat is stolen
By the cold, callused hands of the waves.
My heartbeat is added to the
Now familiar heartbeat of the waves,
The heartbeat of many others,
Stolen, abducted,
Leaving gaping, gasping holes.
Sadness is no longer sweeping over me.
For I am now covered.
Unable to see.
Unable to breathe.
Unable to think,
Love, cry, scream.
I battle and I fight against
The sadness.
It taunts me, it laughs at me.
But I, mouth bloody
Eyes blackened, bones broken.
I laugh back at the sadness.
The wounds are so many that
Pain no longer hurts.
I feel nothing.
The sadness struggles.
My mouth is smiling,
Laughing, sneering, foaming.
Liberated, I push aside the sadness.
As the waves come at me again, again,
I stand my ground.
I am not taken under by the crushing
I am not swayed.
In the face of the fury of the sea of
I laugh. I spit. I scream. I cry.
Anger is sweeping over me,
But it is not negative.
This is anger of redemption,
Anger of deliverance, freedom.
I let the sadness know that I
Don’t give a damn.
I wipe the blood from my lips,
I give the sadness a gesture,
I turn my back, and I move on.
I move forward.

Graphic by Ashley Kincaid.