Just Float

I am.

Waterlogged.

I cling to scratchy branches, seeping wounds in bark, splintered trunks, attempting to stay afloat. 

I thrash and gasp and scramble atop my unwilling (unneeded?) raft.

I was the one who cut down these trees.

I lose my grasp and go under time and again, fighting for breath, fighting for words, fighting to know Why. 

The river is winning. 

I kick my legs and flail my arms and add to the (self generated?) turbulence, white wash, din.

The sky is blue and calm above the chaos. 

There is water in my eyes and I look down, trying to find the stones in my path.

I don't see above.

When I decide to let go of these trees and float down this river, 

(surrender?)

I will see that infinite calm clearly.

I will see the land on either side.

I will swim to shore and set up my tent and roast a marshmallow (crispy burnt!) and smile.

I will wonder what all the fighting was for as I wring out my jeans, pull silvery fish from jacket pockets.

I will dance naked under the flickering stars, wet hair slithering down my back to remind me of the struggle (until the fight evaporates from my skull). 

I will lay with the water rushing by my toes, the land singing me to sleep.

The logs will keep moving until...(I stop cutting them down)