Kayak

Paddle through the breaking waves.
All is broken blue;
shattered water, strewn clouds above.

Pierce the final crest; you’re in the clear. You glide.

The pull of the sea, the pull outwards.
Keep paddling—left, right. You’ll make it to the promised land, where the sun lights up the water on the horizon like electricity.

The sound of cars fades away. The shore gets further.
With a shock, you hear the quiet.
The water pulsates undisturbedly, hills of undulating pillows lifted by great swells.

Drifting. The soft dip, dip of the oars. The rhythmic slap of the water against the hull.
Your stomach lurches; here everything is flow, wind and water and sky, and you slide across the top of an immense fishbowl. You are the only thing making noise.

Quiet seabirds gather on a clump of kelp. Investigate.
You could integrate into this system, were you not afraid.
But the birds sense it, and they fly off.

Brief thoughts of monsters beneath. In the looking glass of the sea: the imagination.
You could make it out of land’s sight, make it to the middle; make this isolation absolute, merge.
But you have a paddle, and this will end.

kayak

This entry was posted in All posts, Fiction/Creative and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.