Tiny sinking rock
by Alessia Vannini
I’m living today as if it were yesterday.
Chained to a past that does not fit me anymore.
Caged with a stream of memories that belong to another life.
Tied to a rope that’s bringing me down, to the bottom of this ocean.
I’ve been shouting underwater for ages.
Now, my lungs have run out of breath and I gasp for air.
I can swim just fine, but I sink to the bottom like a numb rock.
I can’t see the light no more, the waters are dark.
You throw a life ring at me, but it only floats on the surface.
You should have thrown it before, while I was still treading water up there.
You knew but you forgot. Now’s too late.
I tried to shout ‘till I lost my voice. You didn’t hear me, you weren’t listening.
I used to be a whole mountain. Now, I’m a tiny little rock shaped by the waves, sinking to the bottom of an ocean full of floating worn-out plastic bottles.
Personal considerations
Falling to the bottom is not necessarily negative. You’re still sinking knowing you’re a rock and, even though you used to be different once, you’re resistant, unique, shaped by your experiences.
Those who remain are floating on the surface, but at what cost?
They’re artificial, fake, worn-out and polluting.
Over time, with erosion, a rock becomes gravel, sand, powder.
But when a plastic bottle fully decomposes, what’s its use? What’s its worth?
Excellent poem, appreciated the personal considerations section at the end adding context to the idea of a sinking rock. I was inspired by your posting of a short story recently to publish one of my own from a few months ago. It is so fun to see creators on here sharing their own work!