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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Drowning

January 27, 2020 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I can’t swim

maybe you’ve mastered doggy paddling for a moment

but with a speed-like panic and less calm across the surface of water

like me

but you never knew how exactly to swim with any finesse, skill or certainty

especially when it came to deepness

but then there’s a sudden panic that engulfs you at moments notice

without time to decide

the moment you see someone you love sinking

it overwhelms any sense of self

including self preservation

you don’t ponder what you can’t do

urgently you quickly think what you can do

and how

taking action without the self serving step we take of ensuring success

that would take too much time there’s no time to waste

any mental lapse is a time lapse

deciding life or death

seems there’s never enough time in life..

when meaning creeps into its fragile ever changing picture

you’ve always been a quick learner whenever reason was applied

with a great photographic memory

when it came to the simplicity of concepts

so within a second, you believe you can master in an instance

what has evaded your abilities throughout your lifetime

maybe it evaded you because of fear-

that crude calculation of self preservation

its roots in humiliation from failing what seems so natural and easy for most

although you struggle,

believing yourself too old for new tricks

making the decision to steer clear of all hardships the rest of your life

if you can help to at least

what’s the point of adding more struggle to this painful experience we call life

or maybe it’s the panic from the finality of failure and what that means

I mean, at some level, we all fear death

self preservation being a synonym for fear

but we trick our minds in the acts of courage bravery and love

after all, life is more mental than anything

once we can transcend the walls of our minds

than anything is possible…right?

and so you leap! –

a metaphor for faith diving thru the surface-

another metaphor,

for breaking through the shallowness to which you’ve existed

with will being your champion

and you reach and reach

but somehow

they seem as if they are falling faster than the dynamics of water would allow

faster than the horrible mechanics you’ve vaguely learned and held onto

ignorantly thinking you’d never need them

but you believe they are worth saving

so you can’t give up

too many have given up on you, you know the feeling

besides, they, wouldn’t give up on you right?

and still, you wouldn’t have done this anyway if you didn’t think there was a chance at success…would you?

maybe at some level, life becomes unbearable for most of us a

nd we entertain the thought,

the idea of death

but too cowardly to actually venture further than that selfish act of betrayal

always looking for a way out-

an easier path

but now here’s your excuse

a way for your life to finally mean something

Hero

or

Martyr, it seems

your options have never been so clear and honorable

you most definitely will be remembered in high regards

after all our humanity aches to be remembered

and so, in a sense, we will never die

that’s why history is so important

you can’t know where you’re going

if you don’t know where you’ve been

and who did it and how, first

the image of a frog comes to mind

and you do this wide bodied flail in the water

somehow picking up speed, and closing the distance

bridging the gap,

the gap that’s alluded you so much in life, love, and success

tormented by the days of past

that you just couldn’t seem to get passed

maybe you never will

but finding meaning has always held the gift of present

an escape from yesterday

as you near closer,

you see their eyes closed

noticing for the first time, that they just fell

without any fear resistance or panicked movement

almost resigned to their fate

or maybe …

no…

but

maybe it was planned

after all, you just saw the end of the fall

and made a split second judgement

just like life

decisions made without a full body of facts

framed by moments

though we chase history

we evade roots, cause, or reason…

and react to the symptoms

we just see the tail end of the fall

and dive in with our conclusions

you get close enough to grab them

you become mortally aware of one fact

you’ve never quite known how to hold your breath

I mean you got the concept

but being a surface dweller,

living your whole life without any depth

any discovery

afraid to dive in and explore the unknown

and the feeling of being in limbo with the very thing fueling life into your body every second

but you decided to live by avoidance

taking on the easy things that never made need of any risk

or a sacrifice plausible

you just never trained yourself how to die slow

because that’s what holding your breath is

and then the thought of the many levels and depths of dying slow

depending how deep you go…

I mean what’s the point in tempting fate?

safety was always the key to a meaningful life right

hurt does nothing but hurt better

to stay within your element

there’s trained scuba masters and the like whom decide to live on that edge

but this isn’t your expertise

and as you begin to suffer for air,

deep enough where the light of the surface is dimming

you grab them

with barely nothing left in you

facing them towards yourself

ready to rocket towards the surface

saving you both

then you notice something so chilling

that it stills you

and your fight for life alludes you

as you become face to face with them

because that person that was drowning

was you…

upon reflection…

this is how it feels when you give so much of yourself

that there’s no more air nor energy left for your swim back

resigned to your fate-

you close your eyes

and finally die outside like you had done your whole life so many times inside

I guess a hero or martyr

is part suicidal.

Filed Under: Culture, Love, Spirit, Trauma

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Prose of a Con

Prose of a Con is a collection of Russell Wardlow’s prose and poetry written entirely behind bars. Through writings on family, spirituality, freedom, love, justice, redemption, and vulnerability, Russell seeks to show the humanity and hope of individuals like himself who are incarcerated.

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