For L.


I fight.
I bite, I snarl, I scratch,
when I should give in.
How easy to yield,
spill my heart’s desire
in one gentle wave.

Yet I fight.
Pounding it down,
keeping it beneath.
It will best me
and as I embrace it,
I fear it.

So I fight.
I gather strength,
another wave, ever harder.
It clings and burns,
calls me to lay down,
not to let it pass.

I am weary.
A fiery ache
numbs me to my knees.
It gazes upon me,
wonders at my struggle
and completes my surrender.