I Will Win

My slender fingers cling to the sides of the crubling dinghy.

   Drops of cool water run down the strands of my hair, lost on my slick body, but,
I am strong.  I will win.

Wind whirls about, careless and free, almost turning me over.

The mountains don't belong here, their bold masses watching me in pity.  Their self-righteousness disgusts me.

I lunge for the oars, push myself into the teal mounds of thick water.
I am strong.  I will win.

A wave falls over me, filling my boat and throat.

My hands stick to the oars, superglued there, and my body coughs, throat itching for air.
I am strong.  I will win.

A sudden crash flips me and I am under, the silent under-ocean (the real ocean) enveloping me in it's weightless cradle.  My arms lay limp but I am trying to make them reach upward, to the chaos above.

I can't.

It is quiet here, and beautiful.  My eyes close and my nose lets burning liquid flow through it.

Eyes snap open as my mouth chokes in the harsh water, and my body fills up quickly.  There is a dim glow in the far corner of the floor, a ring of clean sand makes me notice it.

I reach for it with my only part left, and I know that,

I am strong. And I will win.