shh

sometimes talking, writing, reaching out
feels like casting nets and lines out to sea
and then suddenly i realize there's too much to keep track of
wheels are spinning out of control
lines are getting tangled
too many nets come back empty
or, worse: damaged, destroyed
and i just want to gather everything back up
into myself
and hush into a long silence
and just watch a while
listen to the waves lap
watch the sun set slowly in the distance
endure the coming of night
fold myself into the darkness of solitude
holding tight to the conviction
(which lurks deep, guarding hope)
that the sun will rise again.