DRIFTING OFF SHORE

Drifting Off Shore is the title...... it's a B-side on Cap City by the Lovations. Anyway, it's an ethereal, haunting.... and almost melancholic tune. It arrived in my head when I woke up.

It's two days since the revelation that wasn't really… but I shall refer to it as that. It was more of an inevitable self-recognition of circumstance. I'm no one trick pony and I had been stuck in this saddle steering the ship for way... way... too long.
I had thrown down the anchor and held on whilst the speedboat, or slow crossing rudderless ferry, was splattering about in the water. It had no passengers apart from the few that were clinging on for dear life… with fully inflated life jackets at the ready.

My jacket, my own one, just wasn’t secure enough and so I.. well I guess I went back to being Captain of my Ship… my own vessel.
Boy, did I love that gal… but life swallowed her whole… sucked the air right out of her… vacuum packed her so tightly that her ribs could not expand anymore… to fit anything or anyone else inside.
Just an Illusion of calmness mixed between total panic and turbulence….she was never waving and mostly drowning. Definitely a victim of circumstance…. apparently she had no choice… she had bumped up against weak minded souls to father(less) her children… apathetic creatures who haunt her past… present… and future.

Realising I was in love with the idea of who we were for a brief moment, way back when we were… for a brief moment… you know the kind of moment I mean… I gave too much towards glimpsing it again… pretty naive hey… but boy did I love that gal. I cared for her and because of that very idea… I ended up caring for her… picking up the pieces, trying to piece them back together again…but I’ve always been shit at jigsaws!

Different storm fronts would arrive at her door… suck her back out to sea… a murky ocean where she felt only isolated drowning… and where salty water frothed from her mouth as she floated about trying to save everything ‘else’… but rarely herself…the sense of mother with no choice…no voice and the ghosts of father's past still abusing her present space. With all my heart I pray she can swim to shore and find her feet.. plant them firmly on land…

But I fear for her… even as an onlooker I can see it's too much for the spirit… as a companion (a French reference that I'm still unsure of) I felt it all the time…it brushed against me… I held it in me… as she did… the weight and joylessness of it all. Yet, occasionally, I glimpsed her spirit… amidst her slowly sinking into the mud… it’s a painful and almost unbearable thing to witness… if you love that gal.

Time tick ticks by… it skips skips on… it crushes as it rushes by her window. How could she possibly have space for anything else… for an ‘Other’…just place the ‘M’ at the front and you will see…do you see it now? The nest is full… and the chicks are testing their wings… some flying a little…others still feeding on the wing.

Mother… fighting for… the right to be seen as more than the sum of all the parts that are on show. A resilience that I loved but also felt… as the knees buckled under its weight…waiting became the heaviest weight. One minute every hour… no, no, not to be found amongst the ashes of it all.

Was there are thread to stitch it… to hold together the pieces of a torn garment? Jagged edges patched together with frenzied stitches… in a space that holds her captive… nag nag nags her into something unnamable…whispers in her ear… the spirit of a spirits past dreams… hopes…