Deeper Issues

Wide ripples propagate

from where my paddle meets the water,

caressing the surface, then diving

down into the limpid depths. 

A dense stillness rests atop this lake,

the eastern shore barely visible

beneath the flare of a rising sun. 

Anyone else

would feel at peace.

The water is mirror-like,

and the kayak barely rocks.

I am completely secluded,

surrounded by ravenous silence. 

It took hours to paddle to this point,

yet I find myself missing the babble

of waves slapping the pebble strewn shore,

the whisper of wind through the full summer canopies,

and the chirrups of birds nesting within them.

Serenity eludes me.

I seek distractions and diversions,

constant escapes from the disquiet

that thrums a ubiquitous undertone

beneath every emotion, every action. 

Out here I am deeply alone,

and the discontent is deafening. 

When we should be quiescent,

copacetic and complete, at rest, at peace --

instead I am troubled, chemically dependent,

and anxious.

At times I think you blame yourself,

that maybe as my partner you should

be able to ameliorate this restlessness.

But out here, with the sky reflected back at me

from all sides, it is clear to me that

you are a bastion of peace,

a place of calmness, a cove of rest --

an escape from the turbulence.

But still I am unable to release the tension

in my neck and jaw,

it is impossible for me to unclench,

even with your gentle fingers applying pressure.

There is a deep strain that needs to be released,

a scream that has been building

since I learned how to feign happiness,

since I learned we are not guaranteed it,

and very well may never find it. 

I need to scream until something snaps,

and the whiplash of that tension release

will surely break something important.

But then, maybe, hopefully,

I can appreciate and accept

the tranquility you offer me.