Surfacing Gills

The path has called me, and my legs have felt their isolation. What hangs in front of me steers me to a crashing wave. There are times when my heart sinks and befriends the fallen wreaths that kiss the long journey below. And yet I move above my ground, discovering movements in their unique singularity. There I find myself with fish out of water. My life is short, with gulps of air; my lungs protest when fish gills protrude. Not a tremble, nor a quickening frown— my crown dries and crumbles to an end’s day. My life is not mine, nor entitled to a blazing end. My limbs are loose behind the stubborn hold, and my spirited soul finds its soaring vessel. And in my struggle, a flapping song— my two inflatable lungs counter death in the roaring waves. And here I am, with gills and lungs, living day by day.