salt

there is a gnawing at my
heart
it is the sorrows of the world.
why is it that i see your hand
under my feet
and the next day i'm drowning?
was it not you who also
made the sea?
is it you who engulfs me?
and helps me brush the salt off?

my thoughts as described by Charlotte Bronte

"I hold to another creed, which no one ever taught me, and which I seldom mention, but in which I delight, and to which I cling, for it extends hope to all."