Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, had a hammer named Mjölnir. Mjölnir was considered a fierce weapon that could level mountains and summon lightning with every blow. In this poetry blog, every Thursday, (Thor’s Day), Mjölnir will forge only song - sing of the mysteries and beauties of the world.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

GILLS

If you find yourself
suffocating
in a pond
of your own making,
gasping for air
in the shallowest of pools
that keeps shrinking
in all around you
day by day,
hour after hour,
minute by minute,
don’t fool yourself
into thinking
that you can’t drown.
You can.
And you will.
You will choke
on your own breath
if you are not careful.
And it won’t be
the air’s fault, either.
It will be yours
and the way you let
the oxygen in.

Maybe its time,
to shake off your gills,
grow a pair
of legs,
stand up,
leave the puddle behind,
and put some crampons on
and start climbing.
Don’t go it alone, though.
Be sure to bring
a city of Sherpas
with you.
You’ll need them.
You won’t survive
without them.
‘Cause you can’t carry
what you’ll be carrying
all by yourself
while also acclimatizing
to air as thin as faith.



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