Barely

Tired doesn’t describe it
exhausted, not quite
worn is more like it
torn, one could say
each day a new test
invisible to the world
beat by a year of storms
tattered by gale-force winds
shattered in shards on shore
nothing left to give myself
giving everything
to everyone else
when I’m the one
who needs me the most
divvied out in portions
what’s left when all is given
but meager scraps
on which to survive

when the daily fight
closes for night

I think I’m alive, but

barely

~ Emily Clapper

8.13.16

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