©2004 by Jennifer Honeycutt. May not be reproduced without permission.
was like drowning in the ocean.
i was knocked over,
tossed by the rumble of sweet salty water.
your cruelty was concise,
but i wanted to come up for air,
wanted to fumble my way to the surface.
when i was sucked down by the sand,
soft under my curled toes,
you got what you wanted:
i was under your control.
i wondered if i would survive,
wondered if you would latch onto me
even though you had won.
you watched me struggle for a few moments,
watched my spent lungs expel water
like a spigot.
you enjoyed my powerlessness.
but then you threw me a buoy:
it was one way to make yourself
even more powerful.
you reeled me in: your catch of the day,
crusty with sand and salt,
wrinkled with weariness.
now, afterwards, you lord it over me,
say you are my savior, my jesus.
my toes are still curled around imaginary sand.
my body knows what my heart won’t admit:
instead of accepting your help,
i should’ve found the strength to save myself.