There is a rush to throwing yourself into a wave.
A certain giddiness or
a daring hope,
that this time
you will make it to the other side.
Head high and anxiety low,
Able to reassure yourself that
Yes, you can do it.

It is such a rush
that when the ocean breaks on your head,
you know that underwater is temporary,
And bearable.
So here you go.
Set your eyes on that wave,
tell yourself,
this time I will do it.
I will never know
If I don’t try after all.

So what if I have been here,
been trying, for years?
The water laps at my neck, as I cough.
I have been at sea for so long,
my muscles ache, heart most of all.
I keep trying, though
My lips are blue,
glabrous flesh has wrinkled,
And I can hardly see
for all the salt in my eyes.
Brine?
Tears?
I can’t tell.

Though I crave to rest,
The sea does not care.
Each attempt leeching heat,
and locks growing green as kelp.
I fear that should I rest now,
I would never see shore again.
But rather,
find my new bed is one of the sea,
Where I could sleep,
undisturbed by the crashes above,
and never drown.