Staying Above Water

Some people talk about being born into a burning house.

I wasn’t.

I was born on a small boat in the middle of the ocean.
At first glance we are afloat.
Looking closer you would see small holes pricked into the bottom of the boat.
It’s okay though, we’re still floating,
we haven’t taken on that much water.
The small holes get bigger and bigger,
“We’re taking on more water.” I yell.
No one hears me.
A wave comes, the boat is flipped,
we all find something to hold on to.
My dad let go.
I try to get to shore,
I don’t notice my mom is struggling to hold on until she is pushed into me.
She gets a better grip,
but I can’t stop looking back to make sure she’s still holding on.
I’m begging someone please notice we’re in the water.
I want to survive,
I want to live,
I want to get out of the ocean.
I wasn’t born in it.
I was born with the constant reminder that it threatens to take me too.