The SwimA Chapter by Curio ArcaIt’s the same dream over and over. I’m wading against the current--I fell off a ship, I think-- There’s no land in sight but there’s the horizon And I’m swimming away from the rising Sun as if racing it to the other side For the sake of my life. I’m An awful swimmer and the current’s strong But I know other human beings have made This swim, though comparatively few, and I know I can move my limbs forward Because I am the same species as them. Dim shapes dart beneath my toes And the depths of the ocean threaten With a cold, anonymous embrace. The current gets greater the closer I get To this certain dot. It’s either A ship or an island But I’ve got the dream-surety That if I can just get there I’ll be among those other people, Those comparatively few, Who made the swim. I’m not a great swimmer. There’s a fire in my gut, however, And a light in my head. And I want to get there just as bad As any of those people who made it, As any of those people who were made
for it. The current gets thicker. But I’m not made to beat this, this barrier, this ceiling. The captain in my head is soon taken captive by despair-- Not mutiny, but destiny, pitiless destiny. I’d not have any other way, I think as I sink. I’ll not take reality’s pity. Give me its heartless objectivity, So that when, in another dream, I somehow make it to that island or ship, I’ll know I belong there, I’ll know I beat the odds and made
myself
For the swim. © 2014 Curio ArcaFeatured Review
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Added on August 6, 2014Last Updated on August 11, 2014 Author
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