Jumping in filled the boy with newfound confidence.
“You can do it,” they said.
“You’re the greatest swimmer!”
The boy drifted his toes along the water. Excitement.
He took 3 steps back. And charged. Tucked his knees.
Then, he felt it. The water hugging every area of him. The sinking in his soul.
He took every lesson. Passed with flying colors.
He swam , and swam, and swam. The water was his home.
The boy had all the knowledge. Every stroke and breath.
The boy saw no flaws.
But the shallow end was all he knew.
His best was the backstroke.
The one in which he was most praised.
Practice. Practice. Practice.
The method was drilled into the boy.
He listened to the coaches, parents, and peers. All their advice.
But his fate was not revealed til he met it in the deep end.
The sinking in his soul.
His toes touched the bottom of the powder blue coating.
The water blocked the view of the sun and his guardians.
They saw him. They watched.
“Too bad, He just needed more practice. Well there’s nothing we can do now”
They let him go. To fight on his own. To swim to the surface.
His body lay at the bottom. A life commemorated in the deep end.