water wings


Last night I crawled into the water. Put my face toward the sky. And began to float. I imagined what it would be like to feel that weightless, to feel that lifted up and carried along and free, all the time.

Like the wings of eagles. Where you run and don’t grow weary. Where you walk and don’t grow faint.

Water’s like that. And I fit there. Like I don’t fit anywhere else. It doesn’t fill me. It doesn’t give me back what I’ve lost. But it fills the hole I circle around during the day. The one I fall into at night.

And I’m afraid of it.

Even as I lay myself upon it. I’m afraid.

But past the fear I can be still, in the water. And I can be at peace with that stillness. I can let go and breathe and be carried along. I can be weightless. I can have wings.

This morning my hair is still wet. And the hole is still there. But so is the water.

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