A poem

Photo by Shashank Sahay on Unsplash

There are times
when the brackish flood waters
recede,

And you can finally see the surface
that supports your soaking feet
and shaking legs.

The storm ravaged everything.
Cease your inventory.
Stave off despair.

Bend and collect your
straggling and soaked survivors.
So much is gone.

Except the floor you stand on.
Inundated and exhausted.
As a sliver of morning sunlight
pierces the cracked window pane.

Hours ago, the waters wanted
to drown you.
The wind was fierce and mean.
Who knew weather could be so cruel?

But here you are, with your wet feet
in your own front room.
You stand
on a surface.

And today,
that’s as close to a miracle
as you’re gonna get.

--

--

Martha Manning, Ph.D.

Martha Manning, Ph.D.

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Dr. Martha Manning is a writer and clinical psychologist, author of Undercurrents and Chasing Grace. Depression sufferer. Mother. Growing older under protest.