Swallow the Ocean

These raindrops are heavy on my ears, yet silk on my bare skin.  They pull on my clothes, they press on my lungs–I cannot breathe.  Though I try, they fill me and fight my words.  They steal my screams and I learn to give up.  My DNA seems to anchor me to the ocean floor by a never-ending string, so dainty, yet unbendable.  Unbreakable, tied to my ankle, unwilling to yield.  I am afraid, eyes wide and frantically searching, searching for help.  None arrives, I am alone.  I remember the lark, free and undiminished.  I forget the shore, its smell and its sounds.  I stubbornly refuse to notice the tears wrapping about me, pressing, always pressing.  So I’ve reached the end.  The fear of man.  The fear of myself.  The fear of my genetic code.  There is a movement!  A pressure, sweeping across my arm and face, and a hand, a strong hand to awaken me from this mournful state.  There, he waits with me, speaking sweetly to remind me of the shore I once held and the flowers I once danced around.  It is my cord to untie.  He waits, I gather courage.  He speaks, I listen.  These stories, they have made me brave.  In a flash, my arms arrow toward my ankle and without so much as a brush, flick it away.  We don’t stay to watch as it snakes toward the depths, but he pulls me up, like a helium balloon freed from a toddler’s hand.

We break surface, and here I remember.  Here I remember I do not remember how to breathe.  So he rests me on himself as he surfs this one home.  Unconscious, I was not able.  Determined, he made a way.

My brown keratin curls radiate around my face as the raindrops swallow me then spit me out.  My head hits the sand, my body floats like the lark.  Yet I do not see the sky.  He crouches beside me and holds my hand, ever waiting, ever speaking.  Motionless.  Here am I now abiding.  Asleep, yet so near…

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