I hate how I cannot hate

I hate how my hate is a wave

                         I hate my anticipation;

                               as the wave crashes around me.

I hate the sorrow that floods me,

I hate how it leaves me gasping for more

                  How I cannot cling to its comfort. 

The echoes of the wave taunt me

I wish I could hate like my sisters do,

Full of ire; of contempt

Loathing the existence of whatever stands in their way

They don’t wait for a wave. 

They stand not on the shore as I do; a coward.

They chase.

Screaming their emotions out, 

   feeling their own ire.

They cling to its comfort,

I never could.

I was their shore, 

   A land mass between two warring oceans,

Dark and tumultuous. 

I was torn apart,

                          and remade by their wind and water

I needed to stand still.

Hate then never aided me, 

                                          why should it now?

                                                                      What use would my anger have given them?

Even now I wait; as the coward I am

Waiting for peace.

Hoping for the comfort of hate,

Knowing it could have been mine too.