surreal-scenes-digital-art-by-christian-schloe1The hardest thing ever was born a baby who had
long learned to float in her mother’s waters
swimming her way to oxygen
with first breath then knowing
all this time held inside had been denial
you can run and think yourself changed
while you convince yourself the fates are laughing
look at her
she thinks herself free
she is right back where she started
minus buoyancy of years and water inside
lending fracture to ideas
now she has less to help her float
no cord to pull her child along in hope
those things she gave up are cut away
they stay briefly on surface before submerging
reflecting what might have been
had she listened more closely
when did she cease making those graceful lines
cut through hushed air?
what happened in the years from then and now
to cut off her need to move?
she had music in her eyes
where did she go?
her loss, is not written down, those
who lament tell a different story
poor years wasted, nothing of what she gave up
it is that silent bereavement she knows
will be whittled into the bow of her boat
she is cast off
land is distant
she has only the water
to return
and find what has gone
with the storm