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The most melodramatic of the poems. About the choppy waters we all circumnavigate |
I am drowning. Tossed to and fro by water salt and sadness. Stuck in the wetness by the weight of heavy heart. Thoughts pop up, and memories and feelings gleaming as the droplets. Foam spat high and basking in the light of the moon. Twice reflected before it hits my eyes to then disappears again becoming the waves So many loves there are the parental love from mother to son and that of son to mother of lust, of self, of other So many people there are with their own loves their givings, their takings, faults and their successes So many drowning struggling against the waves faces barely breaking the surface. Desperately gasping for air. And only peripherally aware they are surrounded by others. Some in the same dire straits. Some effortlessly maneuvering the waves Elegantly stepping forth without even seeming to notice the trashing wilds below them. Tension remains where they place their feet. And me. thinking of -them- wishing to know if they are drowning too. Hoping they are not whilst the idea that they aren't only strengthens these currents I am caught I am drowning I have been here before 'One day,' we are told, 'you will stop sinking. You will see a hand stretched out towards you. For you. Their hand. Or your own. We will take it and scramble -sodden and shivering- upon the waters' surface Grateful upon discovering that the trashing waves and the tender blue green of the waters - once again are able to bear our weight.' Many hands we will encounter some we miss in our effort not to sink. Some do not appear as hands their benefaction only realized when we are no longer distracted. Always we will find ourselves back in those cold, exhausting depths Desperately struggling for air. Drowning Many hands we will encounter but only one is yours You. Who I am waiting for; will sing my soul for and hear my song be answered And together we will ride the waves I heard the way of finding you is to just stop drowning. |