(Based off of Meredith Weber’s “From Where My Mother Sat”)


I remember his plight.
He had been drowning in his sorrows-
I was his closest friend.
His dilemma was simple:
a misplaced briefcase
his moment of opportunity,
for a meaning of great importance.
Plunging into the depths of his conscious
He continued to struggle within his mind
Swimming through his thoughts, spiraling ever downward.

He explained his world in retrospect,
hard days, long weeks,
24 years of waiting for his chance.
He could not shift his gaze
consumed by the agony of disenchantment.
I started to realize the incredible simplicity of the situation
wasn’t so simple
diving into the fragile aspects of my own life
formed by the events in this kaleidoscopic world.
I asked myself
How could the significance of the most minute details
be so critical to the ultimate outcome?
There have been hectic days before
where nothing had seemed to go right.
He’d lost it.
His mind had been torn apart, lost in the seas of hopeless redemption
like a sinking dream, slipping through the dark world.

2 years later,
My friend had died.
“Beloved husband and father”
Wondering what had happened to him
No one had known.
I had known his family from years past
we had many memories of the lost aspirations,
trying, always trying.
I had finally understood.
The vivid moment I last spent with him
he describing to me
there is no second chance to live this life, and
to truly swim.

 
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