Swimming

Mother had a ship,
With a white canvas falling,
Stretched by the winds of life

We enjoyed her deck,
Watching the apparent horizon,
With it’s colours of the sunset,

Darkness faded in dearly,
With the gentle waves rocking us,
Listening to her lullabies of the sea

Of gods and monsters
Kings and queens
Under the lamp of the moon

Some nights were cold,
But her woven cloaks,
Always wrapped our little souls

And when we were hungry,
It was the grains,
Rice from a lost island,

The southern sea,
Merry faces,
Drunk on fish soup

What would a boy need?
Else jumping over the board,
To bath in the salty waters

Of course she wouldn’t,
Keeping her dear ones so close,
In her arms of love

Until, one night,
Violent skies
Raging clouds

Howling thunder
Within flashes of lightening
And soaring waves

Slapping the ship’s floors,
Breaking her mast,
Within squeaking wood

To finally split,
Choking on gushing waters,
Within our muted screams

Below, it was gloomy
The walls of death,
Closing in fast

Not a good bye,
A last kiss
Or hug

But a freeing soul,
Rising to the heavens,
Before a yank

Up,
Gasping for air,
my head peering,

Above the water,
Briefly,
And diving again,

To feel my lungs shrink,
As I sunk deeper,
To the gates of hell

But, a plank
That my hand took hold of
Pulling it to my chest,

In one tight embrace
Dancing to a turbulent rhythm
The hymn of the brave

To finally watch the sunrise
From below,
Up the endless fabric of a blue sky

Swimming, lone,
Following a lost map
In the vast sea of the living

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