exception to
my every rule.
a fisherman died
in the waves today
and as he twirled with the tide
i stood
on a bridge
only metres away.
odd, isn't it?
i watched
seaweed
sway
sway
sway
underneath my feet.
i tried to sweep
the sunlight away
but i all i caught
was air.
cold has never felt like this before
never.
this was life itself
after spending a considerable
portion of my day
actually studying
this was freedom.
standing on weather-bleached-wood
almost alone.
it is so windy that
i may tip over
the edge
funny that clothing acts more like a sail
than a piece of dignity.
the sea is splattered
in grey and gold and silver
the water makes
tiny, indecipherable patterns
for the very first time,
in the years that i have been there,
i realise that
this place has never once
looked the same.
as though it
is more indecisive than i
will ever be
((but we'll see...))
i make a tiny pledge
that after the hsc
i will come back
and i will count the planks
on this wonderous bridge
like maybe i
was eight-years-old
all over again.
a helicopter spins circles
in the sky
meeting the cliff edge
and drifting away...
as boats make beelines
for the rocks
and i think they're about to save someone
my naivety
is really getting
out of hand.
i wonder what it's like to drown?
to have water fill your lungs,
the very last moment where
hope is useless.
wanting to cry & kick & scream
but fading into
tranquility
your feet won't ever touch the floor