when one removes oneself from stillness
undoes the smooth, glossed over wake
and in a sense cannon-***** backwards; out
returning to an unknown, though more known than not
with a queer sort of deja vu; uncertainty
uncertainty in every sense
of intelligence, of humanity, of self
to be stripped of ones right to engage
or better said,
to strip oneself; for what?
why endure such purgatory
only to relearn something otherwise perfected
to expand? to give? to learn a slight suffering?
or perhaps not so slight
as losing ones voice is arguably worse than ones limb
you have a spare arm, as well, two legs
but one soul to share
or is it to grow, to remould oneself
retrofitted to suit the now
a more capable, attentive being
who, upon the next disturbance of the surface,
will choke on fewer salty drops,
will tense her muscles somewhat less,
will not be afraid to open her eyes
to the new,
to the scary,
to the unknown,
to herself