Drag you to shore

I remember you jumping in the hotel pool once, fully clothed, because I was struggling to get to the concrete edge of the deep end before my arms went out

I remember feeling embarrassed, and tired, and confused, I thought I could make it before realizing the floor slipped away from me

I wonder if you felt the same,  when you were drowning in your life, I wonder if you felt embarrassed, waking up in that hospital bed with more liquor in your veins than blood

I blamed myself for some time, I thought I could save you, but I weighed 75 pounds soaking wet, and I was, from jumping in to your rage, trying to pull you out

I think I learned it somewhere in Sunday school, mourning with those who mourn,

and trying to be Christlike; a savior I mean

thirteen just isn’t strong enough to be able to drag you to shore