Friday, March 13, 2015

"On Board, but Not Really" by Cadence Sinclair

He invited me on his sailboat.
“Three days, and you’ll be changed forever,” he urged,
Beaming with summery promise.
Hesitation lay at the tip of my tongue.
Who wants to be stranded in the middle of the sea?
But I glanced up and immediately submitted to his hopeful, eager eyes.
“My schedule should be free.”
Really, I would have cleared it in a heartbeat.
Onboard only a week later.
A breezy, luminous, always-will-remember day,
In my floral sundress that matched the motion of the wind.
Heart racing because the waves were choppy, vengeful.
He steered us westward for hours upon hours, until the sun burst into flames at the horizon,
And nothing else mattered.
All the troubles in the world were smoldered in that sunset’s blaze,
And the leftover ashes floated up into the night sky to become the stars.
Those tragic cinders were actually little flecks of hope,
Much like humans.
Wherever we were, it didn’t matter.
Sitting so close, I ignored the chill that danced across my arms,
Only focusing on the way our sides were conjoined, the way my head drooped onto his shoulder,
Exhausted, yet wide awake,
And the way he was humming ever-so-softly.
Could have been a dream, but I doubt it.
As we swayed back and forth,
Back and forth, together,
Atop inky black waters with eternal depth,
I finally felt steady in this strange, unpredictable universe.
Suddenly I was a part of something far greater than my petty, shivering body.

Onboard, but not really.

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