Tag: will

Unconsciousness –
like an iron anchor –
has dragged my lifeless
body, abandoned her
on the ocean floor

I am afraid to stir,
even a little, certain
that pieces of me will
break away drifting into
the unknown, irretrievable.

Somehow, I have learned
to breathe under water,
have memory of wholeness,
but am unglued, earthly
images floating past –

years spent in study,
hoping to be somebody
but like Dickinson, I am
nobody; only sediment
now, contemplating

girlhood dreams, memories
of parading in wedding white
mothers encouraging from
sidelines – I watch, sidelined
with muted amusement

so many dreams, now losses
the ocean’s flow a steady
stream of forgotten tears –
a watery graveyard for
shipwrecked vessels.

What fate awaits me
should immobility win –
will I disintegrate, particles
becoming algae, ever-reaching
tentacles of desperation?

Or, will I evolve into coral –
fragility guarded by venom,
attach myself to colonies –
life fragmented, now sustaining –
one existence traded for another?

Or, shall I gather forces – will
defying fate – propel myself
upwards, lungs and heart pumping,
mind commanding limbs, declare
myself substance, face another day?

(Image:  aquaviews.net)