You stranded me in the desert, a girl with a mermaid heart.
You promised me a life, but you tore mine apart.
You chained me to a boulder, buried me in the sand.
You cut off my siren song, and stranded me on land.
I settled into the rubble, pretended chaos was normalcy.
I smiled and nodded like a good girl, as you seeped the water from me.
I was on the brink of disappearing, submitting to nothingness.
But through the desolation, I heard the sea's call. I felt her kiss.
I dug deep into the earth, through the fire and brimstone,
Right through the center of hell, but it got me home.
I made it to the ocean, stood ankle deep in the waves.
With the cool sea mist wetting my skin, I knew that I was saved.
I dove into the abyss, so deep I got the bends.
I surfaced, choking and shaking, but healing at the mends.
The strength of the water can't be held in your hand,
But it can move mountains. It can destroy men.
****
I went to the beach last Friday and it got me thinking about how I ended up in the desert. After living with a monster for over a decade, even after leaving him, he remains that monster in my head, robbing me of truth and hope and trust. I might be living by the beach, but a part of me will always be in that desert, praying for rain during a famine.
I can't totally blame him. He might have been a crazy person from the beginning, but I was the one who couldn't see it. I'm the one who stayed after I did. It took years for me to regain the strength I once had. It's still a work in progress, but drop by drop, the well within me deepens, the sea ebbs, the storm rise.
That's the thing about water. It can be gone for years, but eventually the skies open up. It bathes the earth. It replenishes. Water can seem weak, always forming to the world around it or slipping through your fingers, but water is strong. It can renew life as well as end it. It can erode and reshape stone.
I went to the beach last Friday and it got me thinking about how I ended up in the desert. After living with a monster for over a decade, even after leaving him, he remains that monster in my head, robbing me of truth and hope and trust. I might be living by the beach, but a part of me will always be in that desert, praying for rain during a famine.
I can't totally blame him. He might have been a crazy person from the beginning, but I was the one who couldn't see it. I'm the one who stayed after I did. It took years for me to regain the strength I once had. It's still a work in progress, but drop by drop, the well within me deepens, the sea ebbs, the storm rise.
That's the thing about water. It can be gone for years, but eventually the skies open up. It bathes the earth. It replenishes. Water can seem weak, always forming to the world around it or slipping through your fingers, but water is strong. It can renew life as well as end it. It can erode and reshape stone.
