Sweet Surrender Poem by Preston James

I wade through my dark abyss,
of great sorrow and happiness.
But no one understands
that the solitude in which I stand
is voluntary, not by command.
They try to save me,
say it's okay to cry,
abandonment is a sorry thing.
They tell me to let it out,
but maybe I am,
in my own way.
Perhaps I prefer to keep my feelings at bay.
But they do not think I am okay,
come to terms with it, they say.
I have, in a way much unlike theirs.
Not according to their terms,
but I have.
I sink further into my abyss,
like quick sand, the more I move,
the faster I go,
but I stay still,
relishing in the calmness I feel.
I will take my time, sinking in,
they grab for my appendages,
they're trying to save me, they say.
but I know much better then they.
My abyss is my sanctuary,
my home in a dozen homes.
I visit it often, my safe house,
I don't need their saving.
Even if I did,
I am too far gone.