- Poetry - At work today,
I felt like a shark. Not so much in the powerful domineering mysterious APEX predator prehistoric beast sort of way, but in the if-I-stop-swimming-I’ll-die way. I guess I’ve known for a while now that I’ve been taking on too much air that I’ve been propelling myself upwards to a blisteringly bright surface drawn in by dazzle captivated by clarity all this time, though, I should have been diving; all this time I should have been plunging into the places where carcasses settle and the temperature plummets because I will never be ready for the surface of the sea until I face the crushing pressure the glittering cold of those Mariana Trenches scarred deep across my soul. I am in darkest advent waiting for a nirvana for my nothingness to detach from pain and to attach to…nothing to swim on with the abyss before me – I am leading an exploratory party into my own depths into my own alien territories into these trenches and gashes billions of years old. At the bed of my sea I leave coral and shells in thanks to the primordial goo that, born in this darkness and surviving this abuse, ruptured through its skin legs and limbs arms and fins lungs and the struggle to become, and struggled up, up, upward toward the sun to be this thinking thing, this human. |
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May 2020
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