Really I Am Just A Girl

No wave is the same.  I remember when I was young I'd get caught in that place between breaking waves.  The rise and fall of the trough as they'd crest.  The beach and safety cut off from sight.  I remember that breathless feeling and trying to suck in enough air to last just long enough under water before I could get my sense of up and down back so that I might ascend into the light, or the waning light.

I love that time of day.  When the sun creates long shadows in its blinding brightness.  Everything a silhouette in front, bright harsh relief behind.  It feels like moving into something, as though I have become less solid and I am merging around it and into the little spaces in between.  

Like the ocean and how it surges around a large rock covered in sea anemones.  I am just another piece of flotsam in the jetsam.  The surge doesn't recognize me, it doesn't recognize the rock.  I float within the foam and froth, spinning and being shot around it into the crest of the wave and I ride it to shore.  After I am safely on shore, I rush back in.

I was fearless.  I was fearless.

Where did I go?

Did I descend too far under the barrel of the wave, sucked into the spiral and pressed down?  Am I simply an oxygen deprived dream of the mind now?  I can still see the little things floating in the air bubbles as I am crushed down tumbling and twisted by the weight of the water.  Did I swim down looking for the light thinking I would ascend?  Did the cool caress of water lure me there?

All one has to do is stop trying.  Stop and float upward into air and light. 

I want to be fearless again.  I need to stop trying.

My day and my subconscious are preoccupied.  Really I am just a girl consumed by a moment.  I am between building waves, my sight cut off from land.  I am discarded in the surging powerful break of water dreaming...dreaming of someone.

How could I be reduced to this lack of control?  Remember to breathe, to hold it in...I tell myself this over and over.

Fear fingers through my hair and wraps itself around my skin like seaweed.  I can not control or create an outcome. Why not?  Aren't I at that place in my life where I can reign in the wave?  Can't I be fearless and step in?

All of this because there was a man and look across a room. I have learned that my faith is thin and transparent.  I have no control and I hate it.  I have to give it up.  The thrill and the fear.  Either I drown or I ascend.  I have to let the wave do its work.  Resistance is futile.  We are all just little flotsam and jetsam anyway.  All just little motes carried on a whim.