What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?
I hold the memories
In places I don’t remember
Mom saved me
When dad almost lost me
At the bottom of the pool
She couldn’t swim
Her fear of water
Overruled
To save her child
I told you to watch her
why didn’t you watch her?
I hold the memories
In places I can’t forget
Watch me, daddy
Gentle waves
Sturdy raft
Rip current
Spinning
Spinning
Spinning
Eyes open
No sound
Calm
I’m going to die today
I’m only seven
Nobody sees me
The ocean decides
Salt water in lungs
Breathing air now
Where were you?
Where is your raft?
You didn’t watch me, daddy
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“It's Amy,” I said. 
Beautiful ❤️
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Thank you ♥️
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Btw, I’ve linked to your blog from a post I wrote today. I hope you’ll get many visits and subscribers from that ❤️
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Thanks so much! That’s very kind. ♥️
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Of course. Good bloggers need fellow bloggers to help out, especially if they’re both awesome at writing… 😝
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😉😊
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“Water, water, everywhere,” I nearly drowned in a sailing accident once…. my goodness Amy, this poem expresses it all….
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I’m sorry to hear that Marie-Gaye. I’m pleased you can relate to my words, although I’m sorry that is the case. I’m glad we’re both here now, able to read this prompt.
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Yes, indeed, it’s a very scary experience. I have been faced by so many scary things that a poem was called for.
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I have a similar life experiences, and I agree a poem is definitely called for in these cases.
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Absolutely, takes in everything.
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Powerful. I could feel myself holding my breath. 🙂
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Thank you. 🙂
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Yes, reading your vivid description of a ‘near loss of life’ led me to the golden rule for parents. Which we, my husband and I lived through. Scenario: Year 2013. The overhead speaker screaming ‘Code Blue’ stopped. Rushing feet on tile floor before us stopped. With an iron grip of our fingers clutched together, we sat helpless, petrified. Infinite measure of time. The doctor in a blue coat emerged from the room. We lost our beautiful 32-year-old son. Another infinite time we engaged in a conversation with his cardiologist. Then or any other day after that, my husband and I never pointed fingers at each other. The final curtain came down on our torn souls. This is a reflection of my story that I wrote about our son’s departure. Also giving him a voice to narrate it. Title: Music Box, eBook or Paperback. Also, title: Afterlifers and the Mountain. Search for author: Dee Tezelli.
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I’m so sorry for the loss of your son. I can’t imagine that pain. Thanks for letting me know about your book. I will check it out.😊
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Thanks Amy, he will appreciate his voice being heard through my writing.
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Absolutely.
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Wonderful, Amy. I felt the tension while reading.
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Thank you, Edward.
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