What keeps me holding onto my old self,

preventing me from casting it into past swells?


Something detested, adored, hymned too,

haunted, cancer ridden, inflamed, grieving


and torn- yet beloved, pulled forward

into an ocean of tomorrow and tomorrow’s


swimming to hope or drowning in hopelessness,

never knowing where my forgiveness exists


or where my identity will be marooned,

my crueler self will  beach


and be rescued or

die in the unlit sun.