Rise, Fight, and Rest

We doubt you could do all three—
Take fierce joy in what you like,
Fight to save what’s on the brink,
And find peace in all you’ve lost.
Surge, crest, trough. Once you’ve felt joy,
You’ll lust to fight to keep it,
Bring it back. Once you’ve lost it,

And made your peace with your loss,
Calm saps all your urge to fight
On—wave, crest, trough, wave, crest, trough.
There’s no wave that will not break.
There’s no trough that can’t be stirred.
But soft. Words are here to help.
We can whip a calm to froth

Or pour oil on all that swells,
But you have to choose. You do.
Words can’t bring it all at once,
Wave, crest, and trough. What are you
In your ache? What are you most?
If you ask us, we will say
Choose what soothes. But we’re not you.