Initially, when I wrote it, I titled it “We the haunted”, but then after a month realised it sets a stigmata where it doesn’t really belong. And I chose to title it instead for the positive incentive that it deserves.
I’ll leave this shipwreck and join the others,
tiredly as they swim for the shore
to this distant island which we’re pretty sure that is not a mirage.
but we know
that once we get there,
if we make it,
we’ll have to build a new ship and find a new home.
so i jump, off this wreck that, although it keeps me afloat,
will not move anywhere,
and I’m tired already and weak – without nourish,
and have no esteem left as a paddle to push all that wight around.
as I leave the cold wood and hit the freezing water
my chest instantly feels like a stone of ice.
i try to adapt and struggle to keep breathing…
a-last, distracted from everything else all-round,
i start to push the water away from the island.
gradually, i get the hang of it.
i see it, it’s there, i can do this!
finally, confident enough that the island will not disappear,
i turn my head around.
others from other shipwrecks are swimming near by in the same direction.
the warm feeling of a hello makes all the cold feel like a tinkle,
“it’s not just me anymore” i tell myself
and continue pushing the water beneath me away from the island.
we look back at our separate shipwrecks as we swim…
all the familiarity that we had there, that we projected…
the lingering time spend customising reality or illusions…
how did we not see the rocks?