“He’s off the deep end” was about the worst thing she could say about someone.
For years I thought I was safe in the shallows.
Seemed to have my feet firmly planted.
Recited the rules, Religiously.
“Never turn your back on the sea,”
“Know the conditions.”
“Off the deep end you are suddenly mid-way in the food chain.”
I would always manage to get caught out in the deep end though.
(And shouted at from the shore).
Off the deep end is terrifying. If you put on your mask and look down the
Depth of the darkness reaches for you, and
You find your self trying to walk on water.
Tiger sharks and barracuda lurk just out of sight, I swear.
But if you turn over and shade your eyes, give up control,
You rock gently as a hammock in a breeze.
Drift here and there as the current moves.
And came the day when I admitted to myself off the deep end was where I wanted to stay.
What they say is true: many are lost off the deep end. And
It will ultimately get you.
What they don’t tell you is that many are lost in the shallows,
Battered by the break, stung by wana or wind blown sand. Snatched by a rogue wave.
She never went off the deep end,
She took her battering in the breaking surf with her feet on shifting sand and solid rock.
The sea claimed her in the end anyway.