Islands

We float, diseased, decaying flotsam on the oceans of the unafflicted
A permanent blot on the face of “healthy humanity”
Disabled in body, pillaged of hope, crippled in spirit

We ride the endless waves of todays and tomorrows
Our suffering, our longing for relief
Voiced in silent sighs and futile calming breaths

We search the horizon with pleading, crimson-tinged eyes
Not for miracles or counterfeit invocations of divine intervention
But islands, blessed islands, islands of escape

We emerge from seas of pain and despair
And luxuriate on warm sands of tranquility
Listening to bird song, examining the beauty of a grain of sand

We watch the sun’s life giving rays
Peek through billowing clouds and swaying palm fronds
Then close our weary eyes, dreaming of normality

We know that our respite will be brief
Counting each second, embracing each minute
In a fruitless attempt, to outwit Father Time

We try to forget the ceaseless revolutions of the clock
And of man, knowing full well our endeavor will fail
For, “pleasure time” surely outpaces time spent in anguish

We then watch, and listen, mixing equal parts anger and trepidation
As the tide slowly rises, as the waters of desolation creep up the sand
Forcing us to swim yet again, straining our eyes, exhausting our resolve
In the eternal quest, for precious islands that sustain us