For the moment, I’ve stopped struggling.
The undertow tugs at my clothes and the current takes me where it will.
Surrender sounds like defeat, but this tastes like victory, the sweet release into something open, empty, yet complete.
My heart speaks, instructing me to relinquish all control.
I close my eyes, and see myself dissolving while remaining whole.
When, at last, I am delivered gasping to the shore, I know it was the letting go
that brought me home.
I was saved not by my strength, but by daring to be vulnerable and weightless, choosing not to hold onto any of the debris that floated past me.
Truth tastes salty, like tears, or the wind-whipped spray torn from the froth of breakers. Truth tastes like drowning, feels like being spit out of the belly of the whale to stand inside a larger footprint on the sand.
—Danna Faulds
