Solstice

Submerged,
you dip a toe
into the sky above.
Nothing,
but clouds
below.
Unforgotten
territory, passing
before
the future,
before
your foresight
threw caution
to fate.
And then the
struggle for
survival,
for one sharp
sudden breath.
Enough to
haul you back
to the beginning,
when braille tongues
guided dry lips
to a safe place for
landing.

FIRE 22, p 32; Claire Louise Hunt