and maybe this is why some days i get so close to the
water i do not question what lies at the bottom of the river
something sinister, surely two-headed turtles fish with hands an
orchestra perhaps that once played on an ancient ship
swallowed by unshakeable liquid it is said that human beings
have explored less than ninety-five percent of the ocean floor yet
every drop calls my name when i was four years old a
stranger saved my life as i began drowning in a community
pool in lebanon the only thing i remember is the
image of my mother running toward the water screaming
then her figure blurred my eyes filling with chlorine if i
died then i would be the last of my lineage today the same
i know not the name of the substance that compels a human to
make more humans but i do know what the ocean is
capable of i carry the duty to pass my family’s name there
is not a lake in the world named after the people who
suffocated beneath its weight imagine to be water to kill to carry
to swell to sway to do all this and hold no grief to evaporate
only to be brought back to the earth that heat raised you from if
the water does not kill me something will i’m sure of it
scientists say the ice is melting the ocean will swallow us
before we explore its darkest corners the summer i
almost drown in lebanon was the last time we visited for six
years perhaps my mother knew all water is connected we
had defied the ocean’s power too many times crossing it
with machines that cut through the heaviest clouds i just want to
find a home that does not try to drown me beneath its salt so for
now i will sit by the water and some days i will sit
too close until it drags me into its abyss and i emerge as a
new animal carrying every drowned ghost between my teeth