Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Diving

After a certain depth, there is no light. Or at least, there is neither hope nor promise of light again. At this level, it’s easy to imagine you are seeing bright bursts or sparks, but truly-- the light is gone.
On his first descent, Sean felt the darkness encase his skull as snug as a dirt-bike helmet. He thought of the time his cousin Benita locked him in the empty silo. He thought of how he stood, blinking rapidly with his arms helplessly outstretched to form a sagging “T.” On that hot day, inside the silo it was cool and the muffled whirring of the owls above him made Sean feel exposed. Soft fluttering, nothing. When panic finally settled in it was immense and total. Sean opened his mouth to scream and found his lungs deflated; he inhaled one oat-dust filled gasp and then fell face first into a soft pile of droppings. When the tiny door was flung open some time later Sean peered up to see Uncle Jim with a cigarette clamped between his teeth, cursing Benita.

Encased in such darkness, what a welcome relief                  the light.

1 comment:

Angel_Groupie said...

"After a certain depth, there is no light. Or at least, there is neither hope nor promise of light again. At this level, it’s easy to imagine you are seeing bright bursts or sparks, but truly-- the light is gone for good."

You can't even think that this is not one of the most poetic phrases that you have ever read.