The Diver.
Tense and breathless from falling
An endless fall, no water rushing to meet him.
He doesn’t leap easily, but once it’s decided,
That’s it.
No going back.
From the top, looking down
He told himself, in quite uncertain terms,
“You won’t be falling long.”
Now it’s been too long, too far.
“Was it really like that all along?”
It’s so hard to judge the trip before you’ve leaped;
Once you have, that’s it.
No going back.
Too late, too late, you can’t climb back up that empty air.
It’s just a memory of time and effort now.
You’d think the water would do as it’s expected:
A sudden meeting. Splash!
But the wave’s distracted, looking for what it’s meant.
Gilded ships of gold, passing on passages of old,
Where’re its great wars, its schools of soldier’s oars?
He’s been falling a while now.
We talk past each other.
At least I think so.
Do you see the half-empty words,
Or do they taste half full?
He’s been falling a while now.
What did he expect?
That the waves would rush to meet him,
A soldier home from a pathetic self-war?
It’s got better things to do, more it was meant for.
Seeping into houses old, nurturing colonies of mold,
Fueling those self-fought wars, in tears wept behind closed doors.
A sudden meeting. Splat.
He lept, that’s it.
There was no going back.
No pity, no pity for the life he left behind.
“Was he really like that, all along?”
It was too long, far too far to go.
“He must have fallen so long…”
It must have looked like forever,
From so high up, looking down.
No going back.
That’s it.
He didn’t leap easily, but he did.
An endless fall, no water rushing to meet him.
Tense and breathless from falling.
