There was a time when the sun felt like darkness, and darkness was still darkness. It was all the same.
I got caught in a riptide and swept out to sea. At first I thought I was just riding a wave, but then I kept drifting away from me.
The shoreline finally disappeared and I no longer knew where I was. Amongst the drops of the ocean I was just another one.
I sank instead of swimming and as I fell into the depths the sun disappeared. The darkness grew darker and the great white I feared.
The deeper you go, the darker it gets. Even thousands of feet below, you never forget.
In my dreams I tried to speak but no words left my mouth. I’d then try to scream but it was just a whisper in a noisy crowd. My legs wouldn’t work. With wet noodles I’d try to run but I couldn’t run anymore.
When I’d wake up in the morning alone in my bed I’d hold my eyes closed for a minute, hoping to see the sun.
But every morning I was lost in the ocean still living amongst the eels: Head sick and heartsick not wanting to feel.
I lived underwater for close to three years. No one could find me, no one could see me, no one could touch or hurt or feel me.
Weightless I floated across the Earth: The Indian to the Arctic to the Pacific I took.
But it was all darkness and I never got to see. It was all darkness, it was all me.
One day I began drifting upward inch by inch until my head broke the surface, just for a minute.
I could hear the eels laughing at me from the darkness down below: “Don’t go don’t go. The sun doesn’t want you anymore. Come back to us you worthless urchin. Stay with me.”
I didn’t stay, but that’s a story for another day.
I finally made it back to shore, but maybe not all of me.