Washing Away...

The water pulls at me, weighing me, crushing the breath from my lungs. I am treading in genetic cyanide. The wounds gap as the life ebbs out of them. I don't know how much longer I can force my mouth above the waves as they crash and suffocate me with relentless fervor. I feel awkward and hollow. I don't know anymore where I came from and don't know if I want to go back. I pull in the last breath as I go under, go away. My mind floats through a screen of memories of good, of bad. The good is more like a sitcom the bad an epic Greek tragedy.
Closing my eyes I surrender. I don't have an idea of what I'm fighting for anymore since I am clearly never winning anything. My solace is the eventual exhaustion that brings on fretful sleep. I would prefer my happy nights of walking the halls then the sleep of desperation. It all falls from me, sister, mother, attachment. I open my thin fingers and visualize my mind letting it all drop. The rush of water swirling the images out, past me. I seal myself from the hurt, biting my bottom lip that quivers from injury, anger, contempt. My fingers instinctively start to form a tight ball, a fist, but they can't. Why?
Another stronger, careful, callused and sensitive set hold fast to mine. The world rushes, throwing shadows off of me as the hand pulls me, supports me. I see a set of blue eyes, then another, and then a sparkling set of green. This is what I am, this is what I am made up of, not the lies that pull and contort by heart. I feel the small tight stitch pull my wounds together with a squeeze of his hand. I feel the healing in the laugh of my daughter. I feel it in the arms of my son. I breath them in, claiming their beauty to nourish the ugly inside of me. The water still washes below my knees but it will no longer drown me. I will float my own way, or wade it out if I wish.
I can't starve for scraps of affection, nor suffer for deeds not done. I can no longer apologize for transgressions I never committed. I can not seek forgiveness when there is nothing to forgive. I shall emerge and thrive in the eyes of my family, the laughter of those I love, and the arms of all those that love me. I don't need genealogy to make me who I am, I can make my own family and relations myself, entwine my soul with those that deserve it, not those I have been saddled with.

                                           I was listening to the impeccable Johnny Flynn.