A diver, down far too deep for her own good
She fills in the blank spaces with whimsy and dreams,
Gives herself a grandchild here and a good book there,
Perhaps a batch of cupcakes to prove she has life left to live
A hike through the woods to remind her she can be strong
She’s still breathing, isn’t she? She swims down again.
Maybe she dreams herself across a river made of snow
Or transforms into a spider, crawling across ceilings unknown.
She screams from the pulpit, " be brave, have faith, give thanks"
She stands in front of Congress, telling them to get wise.
She returns to her bed, the air too clean- she’s a messenger now
Except she’s forgotten what war she was supposed to wage.
She debates going deeper, to the caverns of her treasure
Where she hasn’t dwindled any since the glory days
Where she can cast aside the constant question of how long to stay.
Uncorroded, she descends until heartache fades from view
Left in the rain for a round or three with eternity, she grins
It’s easier, she insists, to swim than it is to sleep. So she dives.
Inspired by various poems from "Dearly" by Margaret Atwood.