Broken Squeak Toy Laugh
I laugh every day. I think too much and internalize it far too often. This is the release.the (new) story of the ark;
the (new) story of the ark;
my therpaist drafted out a letter, [we kept in touch, but our distance kept limited sessions (i lied about the move)]. i suppose, in retrospect, it was a suggestion not a command.
“stop drowning in your sorrow. know that just because ships seem to be built to one day sink, that they were meant to carry you back to land.”
“stop finding the means to create holes in anything that’s every been a life raft.”
so i set out to build me something worthy of the seas. a captain, a companion, a bed or two. but i know nothing of direction, of maps any place but across your chest, or how to read the constellations when they are all across your back. instead, i drafted a letter, a complaint, perhaps a lament right back.
“i know nothing of the sea. i find it much easier to drown than to learn how to swim, when drowning is always a danger. it seems out of reach, out of touch. and all of these metaphors about boats are wearing me thin.”
i met you at the most unexpected of moments. hushing my urge to say something, anything. my words are not as carefully constructed on a whim as i would like them to be. (hindsight: i knew what i wanted to say to you, always. i just didn’t know that i knew it was you.)
you were constructed from the most rigid of timber. trees with roots firmly in the ground. no flighty, replanting ever took place. solid, sturdy, stable. you were built for adventure. speed, strength, sporadic though drifting with the wind, with the waves.
the letter came quickly in the post.
“you will drown. drowning isn’t beautiful. it is painful. the pressure on your lungs to breathe. the black out. the cold.”
then came the rain. forty days and forty nights of hammering water surrounding. but you were an ark, built to last. stable, strong, solid, sturdy, sporadic, speedy. you could bend and not break to the change of the tides. you could coast with or against the waves. riding currents that were not there before.
“i am not drowning. i am just fine. it’s this drought i’m worried about now.”
