Katrina Kaye
Sometimes
water rises
levees break
floods erupt
sometimes
it’s slow
invisible to the eye
yet
apparent
sloshing up your legs
sagging a run into
a slow motion walk
waist deep
shoulder
neck
just above the break
sometimes
we drown
the smallest puddles
a missed birthday
forgotten pill
ringing telephone
sometimes oceans
alienation, heartbreak, childhood, morality, mortality
rip through
consume
enclose
crush
leaves us clinging like seaweed
still on the vein
sometimes water rises
sometimes it’s easier
to stand still
and let the water
rise
“water rises” is previously published They Don’t Make Memories Like That Anymore (2011).
Iron & Sulfur 
Yeah, “…sometimes it’s easier…,” but not yet.
Like, for instance:
Tomorrow I will rise long before sunrise
ride my iron horse in heavy traffic
ride for two hours in the cold wind
wind tearing at my eyes
from riding 75 to 80 miles an hour
wind insidiously working its way
though layers of clothing
just to be on a movie set.
I don’t know why I do these things.
There is a feeling that the water is rising
and I have to keep going
going, going, going
before that water finally
at long last
catches me
the tailpipes hiss
stream rises
the engine chokes
and my ride is over.
It’s not “live to ride”
or “ride to live”
but ride to ride
to not stand still.
I liked your metaphor – if metaphor it was – since climate change will result in massive floods, among other things. So, I made it mine. Hmm. To stand still or ride. Same ending, no escape. I am so tired sometimes, yet I still move, still do, still ride. – Terry
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The poem resonated enough that you were able to personalize it. Wonderful!
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