Drowning

I have been on the brink of this sink hole

so many times,

the clams know my name.

My feet are planted firmly,

but the sands shift--the water erodes the foundation,

the brim of which I am slowly falling over.

I hear the crashing of the waves,

the shrieking of the gulls,

and I feel myself slipping like quicksand.

I see the tide come in,

and wait for the release-- the cold cloak of ocean,

                                  salt and water

                            and sand,

                  and I feel myself drowning.

I want so badly

to succumb to the darkness,

close my eyes, and just sleep.

But I can hear the laughter of children playing,

and my lungs burn for air.

I'm not ready to go, yet.

I need to laugh and play and build sandcastles.

I need to run in the sun, catch waves,

and dive for sunken treasure.

I need to be a child again.

I need to live.

I open my eyes, and struggle--

I fight and kick with all my might,

and I resurface.

I gasp for air, dry my tears,

and dream of warmer days.

©pb--2012