The water seems too far above me, the
surface a shimmering ceiling, a
far away point of light, a
star…but
I’m not drowning only seeing what I am believing, being
who I am dreaming; waiting
to breathe again.
What I think and what I say and
who I am today and
where I find myself when I finally open
my eyes to
look…is nothing no one nowhere but-
but-but I can’t don’t want to believe what
I know is real
Swimming is nothing if not a slo-mo run toward
a horizontal somewhere; a floating idea of
motion movement sliding slipping into the
future…but
not where I have ever imagined that I should could would
be once I realized I needed
to breathe again.
What I think and what I say and
who I am today and
where I find myself when I finally open
my eyes to
look…is nothing no one nowhere but-
but-but I can’t don’t want to believe what
I know is real
The idea of water is so intimate and connected, to
me you us them everyone inside out and our
flowing warm blood reflects the oceans, the
world…but
grounded we stand wait hold try to live our lives
while alone, while we try
to breathe again
What I think and what I say and
who I am today and
where I find myself when I finally open
my eyes is nothing if
not the ability
to breathe again.
