Rising From The Sink

By Beth Chorley

Crippling waves of anxiety smash against the sides of the boat.
Broken pieces of the sailing structure fall away into the boundless space of the sea.
The current is rough, and I realize I have chosen a destructive path.
I look around at my deck. It is empty and I stand aboard unaided,
which means I must face the tide alone.

Trying to steer the ship into prosperous waters proves to be a task, and
the fatal path has begun to take a grasp on my mind.
My body trembles with unease, and the great force of the waves throw me across the deck.
There is no one to help me and no one to save me.
Do people want to see me fail, or they just not care?
There must be a reason for my loneliness aboard the vessel.

Infected with self-hatred and no idea how to steer my ship away,
I see no choice but to expel my sustenance.
Drooping my head overboard, I look down at the desolateness of the ocean.
The ship has left my control, and it begins to lose restraint.
At this point, I do not care; I do not know how to lead it into calm waters.
I close my eyes and begin to purge
over the side of the boat, and the vessel speeds into the storm.

With one hand, I grip the sides of the boat; I do not want to fall in.
Although it is unsteady, my ship feels safer than the openness of the vast ocean.
With the other, I forcefully retch to abolish the goodness from myself,
hopeful that it will teach me to navigate my boat into buoyant tides.

I should be animated with panic, yet this is nothing new.
The supreme waves begin to rip apart the boat, and I am knocked from my feet,
left cast down on the floor.
I know I want to get up and prevent the destruction, but my stomach throbs,
my watered eyes are blurred, and my mind tells me to stay knocked down.
Disturbingly, the reckless waves and frantic storms have become my reality.
And then I feel the ship begin to descend into the great mouth of the sea.

As the water fills up the deck and the waves smash down onto my person,
I rise from the hard, wooden ground of the deck.
I sprint down the sinking ship, with the edge of the boat in my sight.
And I fall many times along the way.
However, once again I rise with the open water in sight.
Taking a leap of faith, I dive into the sea.

The fresh water feels beautiful on my damaged skin.
As I open my eyes in the ocean, I see no wreckage or sign of the destruction of my boat.
Swimming up the surface, I feel the beaming sun on my body, and I enjoy the warmth and comfort it gives me.
I turn onto my back among the calm waves and shut my eyes,
but I can still see the bright sun above me in the sky.

I have cracked, but I will not be broken.
I do not fear falling because I do not fear living.
The deeper I sink, the higher I rise.

 

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