Every rock tells a story

I.

I think I was there for fun, for recreation
My friend with her mermaid green hair paddling with me in the water
only it quickly became clear something was wrong

The dark water didn't give away its contents
but they became quite obvious as they wrapped around my arms and legs
brushing against my torso

How we got so far in I can't really be sure
but it became a bit of a desperate scramble to figure out how to escape
a floating shack, like a tiny boathouse came into view

I tried to throw myself into a deeper current
to less congested water
in the canal under a bridge

She chose to use the submerged hardened layer of nightmare materials
to try to walk along the edge of the cement wall
that attracted barnacles and garbage with sediment glue

Some of the structure broke apart under her feet
but she was braver then I, who hates squishy weird stuff in my toes
she made it to the boat house first

My hand hit a large chunk of concrete that had solidified
around a bunch of empty bottles
so remained suspended just below the surface, invisible

I was faster then her
vaulting myself into an open faced kayak
and slicing through the water while she struggled with a canoe

I paused to make sure she was going to be ok
paused long enough to feel relief washing over me
then opened my eyes to the early light spilling on to my bed



II.

It feels so foreign to come back to this place, this space where I learned how to connect in and listen for my internal mutterings and sighs. Having been so focused on the space between myself and another person makes it really striking how difficult it was to drop in to awareness. Struggling to sink past the intellectual storytelling, the constant narration for another, it felt like the longest journey to that wordless place.

Then I got there. Landed. Arrived.

I reminded me of the night before, sitting next to a close friend in a cozy bar, the smoke of his scotch overwhelming my senses. The disappointingly visceral reaction to the taste of it as it evaporated off my tongue, replaced by the warmth spreading down through the center of my body. Not alone.