Sinking

October 16, 2015

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Sinking

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I fell to the bottom of the sea.

Where on sand, 
spiny, 

bloated, 

extraordinary creatures swam 

and each whispered me to leave the cloaking darkness.

Surrender, I had, to the drop with only vague vision. 

It was a pull they whispered, taken I had been by my heartstrings full with blood. 

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My body floated on the surface,

my mind filled with pictures of unseen creatures,

which might be found below. 

I was ready for the promise, a gift, 

the surrender. 

Salted water weighed heavy on my body, a peaceful drag took me. 

Skin wrinkled.

Breath taken.

Hair tangled in itself,

my body found the floor.

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Surrounded by rawness,
the whispers began. 

I was not meant for this world beneath air,

in the darkness, 

without what I knew as light. 

I should climb to the sea surface 

as a sherpa to a mountain summit, they said. 

I am to live as others the same do, they said. 

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My heart did not want to venture back
to stillness nor to sameness. 

I tethered my heartstrings to ancient rocks resting, so as to take my stance. 

I bathed in different waters. 

Deep sea cold on skin only warmed.

The hidden no longer hid.

I surrendered to the novel. 

I surrendered to this gift. 

I surrendered to my gospel. 

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