Pro Choice

It’s so quiet and isolated

On this lonesome, icy dock

Jutting out into the vast ocean.

As you stand on the edge of the dock

Looking down at the world below

The wood seems to freeze to your feet

Making you immobile

And giving you no choice.

The ocean tumbles and rolls,

And hisses in anger

Spitting salty mist in the air

Which, in turn, covers you

Slowly soaking you.

The clouds pucker and boil overhead

Taking on the color of a fresh purple bruise.

There’s a storm rolling in

And this one should be good.

You glance to your left and right

Hoping there will be someone there to hold your hand

And help you with what’s next

But it’s just you

And this endless ocean

Filled with intangible mysteries

Hidden under that malicious surface.

You stare down at that terrifying water,

And you know you’re not ready.

But you take a deep breath

And gather your courage

Knowing you have to do this, ready or not.

You take a slow step over the edge of that cold dock

And let yourself fall into the abyss below.

The water consumes you,

And begins to smother you.

It’s painful,

More cold than you ever imagined,

And it’s slowly seeping into your bones

Taking over with insidious intent

Making you an immovable stone.

But despite all this,

You fight the strong water

Because it’s already too late to turn back to that dock.

All you can do now is swim.

The thought of swimming the ocean

Would paralyze anyone with fear,

So you take it stroke by insignificant stroke

And pray it’s over soon.