To stay alive, you must become
ebb and wave, they’ll tell you that. It’s the
way of a body to float. And when
did water hold you? When in a squall were you
lovingly enveloped? Lifted. Held and held, or
dragged to the surface by brazen hands. Your lungs
recall their betrayals. Your bones go
logy in the deep end. You thrash and gasp, flail
for the nearest solid thing. Those who learn to
swim learn early, with another’s
arms as raft, as life coat.
Remember: Your resistance saved you.
Remember: It was you all those years, up nights,
who checked the depth, cut
reeds from captive feet, always, always
scanning their horizons for disturbance.