Caught Between

I tread water in white caps

of tumultuous waves by jagged rocks

omnipresent and unchanged

but ironically, seem to wave

as if they had

something to say

about uncertainties

for which get

my best efforts to avoid

floating within the static noise

tossed and turned

like a puppy's toy

below clouds of dark and dreary

I bob up and down

without a yo-yo's stall

I begin to gasp for air

and I gasp again

when none is there

so it’s hard to say

if I will shake hands

with stubborn stones

preferred as land

yet battered, bruised

seems much improved

to living as an ocean’s rug

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