THE WEIGHT OF THE OCEAN

The Weight of the Ocean

When you’re at the bottom,

can you truly see the top?

Does the light shine through,

or is it only something you believe?

I always thought

the bottom of the ocean

was water—

fluid, moving, endless.

You kick hard,

harder than you think,

and you rise.

Your legs burn,

but the air waits for you.

A breath.

But what if the ocean

wasn’t water?

What if it was sand?

Heavy, clinging,

swallowing every movement,

collapsing as you dig.

Your arms claw,

your hands scrape,

pushing through inches,

fighting for progress

that disappears in the collapse.

Do I want tired legs

or worn, raw hands?

Which will carry me to the top?

Which will bring me to the air?

If the ocean is water,

it’s hard,

but it forgives.

If the ocean is sand,

it consumes you,

demanding more

than you think you can give.

Still, the goal is the same:

to breathe.

To break through,

to take in all the air,

and release it

with a sigh of knowing:

It’s always the same.

Just breathe.

Hold it.

For as long as you can.

You’ll take another breath.

Original Work by Just Jean, 05/16/2022