Surface.

I could feel the waves of emotion lapping at my feet again, trying to drag me away but I could not (would not) let them. But they kept on trying, using the smallest memory of how I had once been to try and pull me under, into their cold embrace.

Two letters from forever ago: ‘love forever, Mum xx’, and ‘You will not listen to your conscience anymore. Understood?’

Two books: How To Feel and How To Be Happy.

The guilt:

“Do you remember when we went on a bike ride, back in year six or something, and I was crying?”
“Yeah, you were like “I hate life” and I was like geez, you’re only in year six.”

Lying underneath the waves looking up at the sky, the water seemed to have an almost tangible skin to it, a silver layer that made me feel apart from the rest of the world. It was like I was part of a whole other world beneath the water.

To break the surface was a difficult thing, but it was necessary as we all need to breathe sometimes.

This is my entry to this lovely blog created by the lovely Sanchez.

Drown.

And they closed the beaches

When that little boy drowned.

And they searched and they searched

But he couldn’t be found.

He left behind a father, a sister and mother

But the saddest of all, he left a twin brother.

They were almost alike in every way

He cried when he didn’t come back and play.

They stopped his crying with just a ‘shush’

He knew (they could tell) when the beach fell a hush.

They carried him up, and onto the sand

That boy that will never become a man.

The father cried, the mother screamed

Things were as bad as they had seemed.

Silence quickly fell among the crowd

His voice; it wasn’t very loud

‘Wake up,’ he said. ‘Wake up Tim,

There’s places that we haven’t been

I’ll grow up, and you will to

There’s many things we planned to do.’

All was quiet, all but one sound

His mother falling to the ground.

Because a piece of her heart broke

With every word her young son spoke.

They took him, placed him in a bag

The father sobbed, his shoulders sagged.

‘Mum, they’re taking him away!’

Stop. Their father tried to say

But all that came out was a silent cry

As they lifted his son’s body high.

 



You are

beaches

and

bluebottles

and

night time

and

driving

and

rollercoaster roads

and

midnight

and

black water

and

bright lights

and

big rocks

and

ice cream

and

walking

and

secret

and

shooting stars

and

dingoes

and

good morning

and

company

and

comfort

and

the opposite of lonely

and

opera

and

movies

and

one in the morning

and

breakwalls

and

jeans

and

football

and

knees

and

hands

and

orange

I stood.

And so I stood with the water
cascading down my shoulders like rain.
As I combed the tangles out of my hair
and watched the water drip of my fingertips
...
Sometimes I'm not sure whether I should continue with this...