I've had this fear of large bodies of water since I was 7
I nearly drowned in a wave pool at Water Country
Yes, I had a yellow tube wrapped around my waist
That was supposed to protect me from such things
But I panicked when my feet could no longer touch the floor
And the waves grew so high that they were overwhelming
I've been a writer for almost as long as the years since I've been in water like that
Yet, no metaphor could leak into my poetry, not a drop of ink
Nor blood, nor sweat
Nor tear, til now
See, nearly drowning in a large body of water awoke something ancestral in me
Visions of ships
And Oshun
And whips
And oceans
Brown bodies
In chains
In darkness
Like drowning
My ancestors survived
Because they couldn't jump ship
Never knowing what awaited them at the end of the line
I don't know what I would've done
I can't swim
Besides why would I jump into the ocean anyway
I believe in God, but not like Jonah
I'm nothing like Jonah
Or Captain Ahab
I'd rather not take the risk of running from God or hunting whales
I learned early on that even what's meant to protect you will let you drown
When your feet can't touch the floor
Your arms aren't strong enough to get you to safety
And you can no longer breathe
All you can do is hope
That's all we've ever done to survive
In the deep
That's all I wanted was to survive
As people grabbed me, pulled me to the side and guided me to shallow waters
I thought about breathing
And gratitude
Love
Safety
Nothing took priority over that in that moment
Being powerless didn't mean I wasn't protected
It wasn't God in that moment, it was people
I offered prayers to God anyway
And never forgot that the people had my back
On rainy days I try not to bite off more than I can chew
I don't like beaches or bridges because I want my feet on solid ground
I trust you'd understand, but maybe you can swim
And maybe one day, I'll take lessons