Brigid Faye, Reader

I was in the lake

I was in the middle of the lake

I had set my feet firm in the ground

My feet dug in for better hold

I was trying to gain control

That’s how I got stuck

In the middle of the lake

Knee high in my ambition

I was okay I was just stuck

Hip high i realized I was sinking

I was okay what’s a foot gonna change

Chest high I had to start to let go

I was okay I had found a straw

That’s when she saw me from the shore

She threw a rope and I grabbed on

Her little arms and her big heart

Pulled me out of the quick sand

I didn’t think it could be done

It seemed easy but it drained her

I could never truly reached her

You see I had to hold my ground

So in the lake she came to play

She even helped  balance some weights

This time we wouldn’t sink quiet as

fast

After she left I knew at last

I had to Swim my way out

Wipe the mud off my boot

And start heading for higher ground

That’s where  i thought she could be found

(my reply) 

I’m not afraid 

To dive into quicksand 

Especially for the sake of others.

I know I can always pull myself out

If i want to.

Sometimes I realize 

That a little masochistic piece of me

Loves the struggle. 

Loves the drama.

Loves the pain. 

Because how can a character be developed

Without struggle. 

I think I have started to float

On the quicksand 

I’m tired of the struggle. 

Now I’m gently swimming

Slowly and surely 

To the shore. 

Where I’ll stand up 

And climb whatever hill presents itself