ease

I’m accustomed to drowning.

So much so that when my muscles finally grow a conditioned resistance to the current,

when the pain of the cold no longer deludes my sense of Being

and when the tedious struggle for air and life become cherished companions,

at this juncture of acceptance – I have trouble accepting the buoy

Because I know I can fight.

I can live without means – I can live drowning and still be a force showing the ocean how valuable we can be – taunting it to give me its best and showing it how much more alive I can be, nearly dead and on the brink of extinction – I am still.

We are still.

I have trouble accepting the buoy.

But I’ve finally realized that if I save myself I can save a lot more.

If I can live and challenge the ocean in such extremities while drowning,

Imagine what I could do if I wasn’t.

If I live – I’m going to build a bridge. And no one will find themselves drowning as long as we have.