I am swimming in the
sea of history, deep
and black and blue,
and it surrounds me
and wishes to pull me
under, but I am the
marathon swimmer
heading to dry land,
looking for the dove
from Noah’s ark to
show which way I
should go, and
on and on I stroke,
like Odysseus from
the war, as the water
is filled with creatures
that I know and
do not know and my
breath is heavy,
and my body moves
with agony against
the current ,
with the flow,
as I think I sight
on the horizon
the dreadful Final Shore.

 

14/11/2024