The Drowning Sailor
By Michael Brookbank
It’s another wave to push me under
Into the Cold Black Sea
And I try to hold onto the breath
Instead of the Line cast out in front of me
Because there is a fear
That this will be my last one
My last warm breath
To move inside my lungs
The very thought seems foolish
But being a fool is what got me here
Other men warned me of the danger
But I didn’t listen to a word that entered my ears
Only the words that exited my mouth
That I used to convince myself to believe
That I knew what I was diving into
And that I was ready for this indeed.
But water has never felt so cold
Nor the sun seem so dim
The waves move me back and forth
Until I finally accept that this is the end.
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