Kindred, and Treading Water

90715009

In the end,
When the river’s meet the rocks that
predict the smashing of skin,
and the blood that weaves into the water,
like, a legend that has spilled his last breath,
I will be there.

Tangled, and mangled and sticky with the sweat
of fighting to swim, and to breathe. I will be there.

Her scars and her reminders will be tested by the current,
but she can swim. And she can hold her breath for a long, long time.

Long enough to play dead, and relax, and let the moon carry her.

In the end,
When the river’s meet the rocks that
predict the smashing of skin,
and the blood that weaves into the water,
like, a legend that has spilled his last breath,
I will be there.

To gather her in when she reaches me, before she reaches
the rocks. Before any blood is spilled. Before she has a chance to give up.

She is worth effort of standing, and waiting,
for her limp body to make its way towards me.
I will hear her heart beating, even through the wild rush of
water.

And then, the world will stand still. Long enough for me to get her to shore.

Long enough, for her to want to breathe.

Advertisements

9 thoughts on “Kindred, and Treading Water

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s