The Price of Staying

A Year of Sonnets — 055/365

Photo by Gage Walker on Unsplash

I leave you to the music: swim along,
though it may seem the horror never ends
and Hope, that bitter beast, will do you wrong.
Forever wounded — you cannot defend
against a ring of monsters, playing cruel,
with teeth and tongue, devouring your voice.
Though you would sing in triumph, strong and full,
they leave you weak and witless, steal the choice
of color, light: an achromatic dirge
that wraps your bones and sends you back to sleep.
Though you endure and weather out the purge,
the price of living’s overwhelming, steep.
And you may find it better not to fight,
but fall, wholehearted, into hopeful light.