When you rise it is first an ocean pressure bearing down,
pulling at the ankle, wrestling the hip.

Yield! you say, until the oxygen in your lungs
lifts you through this underwater atmosphere
up, up to white, up to light.

Where breakthrough has bodily sound
and peace is the current that carries you,
tender, stronger, to a better shore.

 

March 21, 2014 — Alexandra Hunter
Tags: poetry