Swept overboard into Maine’s winter seas,
I quickly succumbed to penetrating cold,
Senses and life spiraling, time-suspended,
Floating not in water but in clouds, helpless
Though not afraid, an observer of certain
Death, sphere adjacent to all I knew and
Loved, images and sounds muted, dulled to
Pain, anguish of death in heart-paralyzing
Cold seas, by chance my life lost.
I remember warmth, radiant light gently
Coaxing me to ascend, to release myself to
New self-genesis, another place and time of
My choosing, guiding thoughts imparting
Forgiveness, understanding, and acceptance,
End of one soul’s journey, Attic columned
Temples, Greenlandic Hvalsey Church,
Viking longships, whale paths, hardy life
Amongst ice-cluttered Labrador seas.
Yet, familiar iron-strong hands gripped my
Wrists, human strength, daring defiance to
Halt my heavenward climb. “Do you wish to
Continue as who you are?” a chorus of sentient
Voices asked. “Yes!” I replied with a gasp of
Life-renewing breath, and with an upward pull,
I was lifted not to divine light but into to my
Fishing boat, coughing, bone-chilled, and
Alive, my second chance at life.
Sometimes we are granted second chances to pursue what
we love — poetry, prose, and other creative expressions,
such as music, painting, photography.