Drift, Float, Dream
Until today I had been struck helpless,
caught in the scarlet rip-tide of memory,
struggling to swim my way out
of the bloody tangle of moments that had not
ceased to pull me out, away from
who I have always believed should be me.
I was taught to resist the urge
to plot my course back home
on a straight line, perpendicular to
the shore. “The shortcut cannot save,
will not spare you the struggle to be.”
“Expect to work, breathe deeply, swim.”
The paradigm is often learned too well.
Some lessons are but hypotheses
meant to be tested first, then proved.
Had I stepped out of line at all, I feared
I might have fallen too far behind,
been forced to think for myself a bit.
On this day I will face my fear, try at last
to discover for myself the truth, even
posit my own hypotheses: of love,
of self, and love of self. I will test
the wisdom of the shore. Maybe I
will sink beneath the current, or drift away.
And as I am drawn down, I will
look up and see the sky, and come to
know that love is greater than life
and life is more than a depleting search
for safety. Even the roughest wind at sea
can caress the soul if you cease to struggle.
If I lose the pattern of conformity,
I may find new plans, build a ship,
raise a pair of sails on a mast made
from the heart-wood of acceptance,
forgiveness, and respect for who I am.
I will risk the time to drift, float, dream.
At least once in each life, it can be a good idea to ignore the red flags, and swim out with the ebbing tide. You never know what might be out there beyond the line that separates the water from the sky.
I wish you all enough. . .