New Reasons/ Oceanic Oasis
Mackenzie Fallin (photo by: Kyle Chong)
It was the first thing I ever saw.
I opened my eyes, and all around me there was only you.
I never saw First Light, I never saw the sunrise, sunset, or even your face.
Just your rushing pulses of consciousness, just your touch.
All over my body, filling my lungs, penetrating my brain.
I only know your touch, but I live to dive deeper, to see in front of me the beginnings of a new pursuit or cause that could give me more of a sensation of gliding, and not falling.
That would be nice, wouldn’t you say?
In my world, there are horses, lions, leopards, suns, moons, things that fly, hunters, gatherers, scavengers, explorers, wanderers, leaders, attackers, defenders, societies, cultures.
It’s a scare life down here, and there has always been your touch glazing along my entire body.
Each bubble, and each pulsation, you never know what’s watching you, or even what’s just sniffing you, exploring or even probing you.
It’s a lonely life down here, and only sometimes you’ll see a wanderer like me, but a lot of the time it’s just you.
There is a community down here, but it isn’t like anything I’ve seen in a long time.
I used to just compare it to those dark and rainy nights in New York, everyone just minding their own business with their long coats, fedoras, faceless heads.
They never acknowledged you touching them, they just let you go down the drain, back to where you come from, wherever that is.
Most of the time I just see you, but no one.
The rest of the time, I see nothing.
Well, I guess it is everything.
Sometimes, I come across oases like this one, and I see other things that seem like me, but are nothing even remotely like me.
I see the connections between hell and heaven here, the strands of the devil’s hair reaching for the sky, and your beasts roaming the empty void.
Your touch is shared between then and me.
I thought we had something special.
But you’re everywhere.
Everything, and not just to me.
Everyone sees you, and everyone needs you.
They know you give life, like you took mine.
We know that, and we know you are trying to maintain the balance of life down here, but do you think you could show us what it means to breathe air again?
Of course not. How could you? But we still wonder what it might be like up there. I certainly do, even though I came to you to get away from the up there.
You let the sun fill you everyday, and the moon cool you, I wonder what its like to have no control over yourself, but every control over the things you call home.
Did you ever notice that?
Of course not. You’re just there — all the time.
But I notice, with every mile I travel in your currents, each swell I am tossed in.
I know when you’re angry, and I know when you’re calm.
But can you control it?
I just notice sometimes because that’s all I can do — notice.
Manhattan is probably so far away now, but everything since looks exactly the same.
I might even be dead, I know I am, at least, to everyone back there.
Here, I can’t tell anymore.
But I looked out the last time you took me under, finally brave enough to open my eyes.
I felt your sting, as if you were made of sweat and tears, and I knew that my tears and west build you up, and you use them to break me down.
Into marine snow, and then you drop me, let me fall.
Until then, let’s have a little fun, though.
I noticed you have that way you flick your swell, or the way you let me share your sun sometimes, I really appreciate it.
You’re so good to me for holding me up when you want me to be warm, and holding me when you want me to be cool.
You let me take what I need, without any expectation of anything in return.
So thank you, for everything.
Wait.
This isn’t what I thought jumping off the bridge was supposed to be like.
I thought it was supposed to be an ending.
I’m still here, and I love it.
There’s so much to be here for, so much for us to do, and for me to do with all of your creatures.
I just did what the rain does, fall into your loving embrace.
The rain and I aren’t that different in that respect.
We both took a leap of faith hoping you had something to tell us to remain for.
Whether down a pipe or off a bridge, we became a part of you, gave you agency over us.
It’s not even that bad here, in fact it’s kind of great.
Where did you get the idea to just let your creatures play in your shallows, close to the sun?
How did you decide you wanted to massage the grains of sand on your borders?
I want to do this for you, with you, to share if your work, to breathe with you.
But I don’t have gills like one of your beasts.
You just take me away and put me where you want me.
Is that what you have in mind for me?
To let me fit in where convenient, or is there more to it?
That’s for me to decide isn’t it?
To live with you, but by circumstance?
I can do better than that, and you know it.
We come to you seeking an escape, but we don’t know what it’ll look like.
Most people think you just swallow us up, but you may just want us to see things differently by giving us time to wonder about you.
It’s crazy to decide I want to swim to shore and start over.
Where am I, it looks like Florida.
