This inherent buoyancy
Drown in My Ocean, said my Lord.
Perhaps that begins with a lonely,
formidable attempt to swim across it.
Entering the cold bitterness, pushing beyond
the breakers, far from the populated shore,
how soon we lose our bearings!
Weary, no longer able to plumb
the depths or determine a direction,
we find ourselves in a sort of drifting limbo
at the mercy of the Ocean’s shove and heave;
not a spit of sand in sight. Drown, yes,
but how to go about it? With this inherent
buoyancy, these lungs involuntarily
gasping every other moment for air.
I’m told I’m made of salt water
but it doesn’t feel that way.
It feels like I am a speck of synthetic debris
floating forever separately atop it.
O child of God, why mewl endlessly
about a mystery much too deep to fathom?