broken home upon the water.

words are not enough.

featured image by Theo.

The water wraps itself around my feet in waves and each time it leaves, the sand beneath me is sucked into the. ocean.

A man rows his boat while waving at us.

“They have pursued all of us from here” he says. “They say they want to build road inside the water.” They say they’re going to Calabar.”

Upturned cabanas, broken down shacks. This is what remains of Landmark Beach. The metaphors are crazy, I remark to my friends who laugh because they feel the same way.

The rays of the sun bounce beautifully off the water pulling at my feet. The waves are steady, leaving wet and taking sand with each embrace of the shore.

“Let go,” it’s saying to me. Let go.

I am thinking about how Landmark beach was a thing of value, and how it is nothing but past tenses now.

I put my fingers in the water. An offering. Take it. If you think I need to let it go, then take it.

I am thinking about my diagnosis for clinical depression and the doctor who looked into my eyes and said “you are a danger to yourself.”

I am thinking about the day I took knives and cut at my skin. And the day I tried to overdose on painkillers.

The beach is alive beneath me, pulsing with rhythm. I see crabs and little water critters running around with zero care in the world and I am filled with joy.

What is beauty? What is good?

Words are not enough. We try but all we have are similes and metaphors. So we use them to signal – to say it’s OK.

Theo sends me pictures of a broken home upon water. Aren’t we all?

I see myself as I am. A broken man with pain and weight and the water calling to him saying let go.

The beach is divided by fences. Imprints of man’s attempt to tame nature and make sense of things in his own way.

Stay there, that is Landmark. This place on the other side of the fence is “Good Beach.” Don’t cross.

But words are not enough. Fences are not enough. The boundaries pale in comparison to the obvious and immaculate wonders of the universe.

The water is insistent, calling and calling. The clouds are beautiful and clear in the sky. Let go. Let go.

Like a plant, I bend. Towards the light, towards the water.

I see it clearly now, in molecules. Everything is alive. I am alive and so is the sand and so is the water and so is the sky and so is the -

Two feet, upright – I am the evolution of mankind manifested. In the flesh, I am here and partaking of this world as I am meant to.

We did this. Man. Built fancy beach resorts and destroyed them to build a fancy highway on the coastline.

Let go. Let go.

Why?

Because nothing matters. And everything matters.

Because you are all connected in one cosmic masturbation. Learning and talking and talking about your learnings.

But language is not enough. In this moment, everything I perceive cannot be put into words. I long for the power to transmit my feelings telepathically.

Let go. Let go.

Why?

Because the pain and weight is dragging you down. Let go.

The water is higher now, lapping at my knees. It is pulling – desperately tugging – at the sand. I sway with the waves but I am in one place. Still. One with the water. One with the wind.

Let go. Let go.

Why?

Because the wind is the water and everything is you and by letting go, you are holding yourself and saying “I see you. All your pain. All your struggle.”

Maybe it doesn’t get better. Maybe the voices in my head get me to cut more effectively next time. Maybe it looks up and this is all a tale for the ages.

They will say “he killed himself.” I will say I let go. Let the water come for us all.

The good beach? Nah brother. This is the good life.