Hit after hit head under water (inebriated) unable to swim, I choked, unsure if by God's hands or my own. But by God I swallowed it all then begged for more.
I sank until my feet hit the bottom stirring the sand around my legs then upwards. The ocean floor obscured, my vision obstructed. Desperately I swiped in vain, and swiped again, but still the obstruction remained. And God laughed and I choked either by God's hands or mine, by miracle or design. Am I Him or Him me?
Seething with questions sung and unheard, then yelled and ignored, I finally lay myself to rest. A deep sigh escaping my breast, I surrendered to rest.
Sleep overcame me and I dreamt of pearls, that one day this heaviness would give birth to pearls. But alas I awaken and in my night terror I had stirred the sand again. I do not remember. God let me remember.
I dream of pearls and of pearls I dream. Yet still am I to awaken to this dream. The sand begins to settle but the hand stirs again, never lain to rest, the obstruction remains.
Sometimes I see glimmers, gleams and glistens of the pearls I've only seen in my dreams. And by God's hands they gleam as they always did. But my hands became rough from the sand that stirs and I fear to ever touch, a pearl, to ensure that I never grind her back to sand. For God shall laugh and I shall choke.
"Stay sleeping, little one. Dream of pearl," He said. And deliver He did oblivion and pearls.