Fragments

⤞rough sea

              March is a rough sea,
and I'm caught in its waves,
             wishing for a respite
                   yet relentlessly enslaved
      by the inexorable ebb and flow,
          the changing of the tides—
                  I'm flotsam in the cool depths,
                          all hopes of rescue denied—
         yet I'll fight this to the end,
    and hopefully, one day, learn to swim,
                            and once I've conquered
                  this churning maelstrom,
                        my rebirth will begin.