Lost At Sea

Photo by Asad Photo Maldives on Pexels.com
bird s eye view of sea water
Photo by Asad Photo Maldives on Pexels.com

I feel like I’m lost at sea and I am barely keeping my head above the water. I kick my legs to stay alive and I can see the sun on the horizon but no matter how hard I try to swim towards it, the waves take me in a different direction. Some days, I feel the warm sun on my face and I believe that I will make it, to where I want to be and other days I feel like I can no longer stay afloat.

Clear blue water, I can see everything around me, the past, the present and the future and the images blur in my mind. I try to look forward, to stay in the moment and forget the past. Why does it feel so difficult to think of it all? My legs are tired and my heart is beating quickly in my chest. What’s the point of all of this? I try and nothing happens. I want to swim straight. I know where I am going but I don’t know how to get there. The waves are taking me away from the control I thought I had. The sun is disappearing and soon it will be just me and the night sky.

When the sky is dark, my feelings are too. Everywhere I turn I see nothing but black water, it swallows me up and I feel so small and insignificant. The moon is high in the sky, it seems so far away. I know that there are people in the world struggling to survive and I should feel happy that there is breath in my body and life in my eyes but sometimes I lose that spark, I lose my light and I give into the temptation of negativity. Wouldn’t it just be easier to not care? To bob along in the waves of life and see where the wind takes me? Why can’t I be free from restrictions? Why can’t I close my eyes, picture a place and be there? The answer is simple. Life is unpredictable like the sea, the waves can pull me in various directions but as long as I keep looking at the horizon, I will be okay.

The waves carry me into morning and the light from the sun gives me hope again, I smile, all I can do is hope that the day will bring me some happiness.

Southern Sun

flipflops

Hitting the cold
pavement with
my flip-flops.

Southern sun.
Beating down on my
pale exterior.

Soft whispers in the wind,
tranquillity, warmth.
Waves reaching
toes of joyful children.

Hospitality exchanged.
Strangers have
welcoming smiles.

Trees hold hands,
cooling shadows.

Birds awake with the sea.

Traveller eyes.
I explore.

Corner to corner.
Brick by brick.

Buildings – character – infusion – elegance – new.

Perplexed to feel a sense of
intimacy, freedom
in this foreign state.

Maya Joelle

the stories are true

Ruth Anne Garcia

Author and Freelance Writer

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