Drowning

The freefall backwards is just the beginning.
All is white, roaring confusion.
For what seems like hours,
I am flung about.

Hungry for air, I push towards the surface,
only to find there is no surface,
just swell on swell on swell
hurrying me deeper.

I swirl relentlessly searching for the light,
the pressure in my chest rising,
my lungs bursting, gasping.
I’m drowning – drowning.

What made me think I could ride these crystal waves?
Why had I ventured out so deep?
Why had I not seen what
monstrous force was swelling?

Everything had moved to a point of impact.
The oncoming wave had unfurled
with such force of water,
it had engulfed me.

Seeing an open corridor, I had lunged,
plunging hard over the first peak,
but seeing fear on fear
glimpsing what lay beyond.

Now, drowning, out of control, my mind frenzied,
panicking – threshing arms and legs.
Desperately I search
for the open sky.

But … then I remember … my leg rope … tugging,
pulling at my ankles, begging
to be lifted up
like an annoying child.

With one, last furious kick, I lunge, plunging
deeper – deeper down to retrieve
the leg-rope before
surging to the surface.

As I break through to open sky, my lips part.
Water pours in, pushing me down -
deeper, more deep I go –
I’m drowning – drowning.

Again, I surge, urging my body to live,
pushing with all my might to fight
back up to the surface,
and breathe air’s sweetness.

Convulsing, spluttering, I gasp – exhausted.
I am spent, and the sea is spent.
The set of waves has passed,
and I am alive.

As I look up at the star sprinkled, night sky,
my board bobs nearby unconcerned -
like a seagull on the
skin of the ocean.
Night surfing - never again!