Poetry

Submarine

I wrote this poem in the middle of the night. That week, I’d had a series of strange dreams, all somehow involving the sea and my submarine. At the time, the pressure to succeed in every aspect of my life and to make something of myself was at an all-time high. The time became a key step in me later accepting my flaws and realizing I will struggle at every avenue in life. I think we all want to be gorgeous, happy, and clever all the time. But writing this has taught me that, even if I never leave the ocean floor, I’ve done all I could do. That must be worth something.

Every night.

Laying deep-sea

thoughts to hang dry,

With every twist of fate,

my mind goes silent,

blinking:

watching each doubt

swim by.

All the currents

take me;

choking on the ever-high tide.

Resting

is only ever trying to escape the ocean floor.

Every climb to

where the waves hug sunlight and shore

becomes defeat.

The radar,

the watchmen,

civilisation

make themselves aware.

All of the failures

flaw so obviously,

each time my

submarine

fights

to reach

land, life

and air.

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