I am drowning,
I am returned.

In the flow,
On the ebbing tide.

I am drowning,
I am returned.

Wrong-shapened and unfamiliar to myself.
Overwhelmed as much by the experience, as by my release from it.
But ready, ever ready, for the next wave.
Which may sink me - what are the chances?
Which may settle me on soft, sun-dried sand further up the line.

What are the chances?