At sea, the sky was stitched to the waterline. A lifeboat: plank, bone, prayer, a fragile design. I learned the arithmetic of thirst and light, the way fear can be a raft if you name it right. I learned to hold two truths and not make them fight. Then the water rose, and the shore slipped away. One orange boat, one hard hunger, one endless day. I will survive — I will survive — on the small fierce edge of now. A story can save me — a story can save me — when truth is too wide to allow. The story with animals is the better story — Richard Parker keeps my heart on watch through the dark — memento mori! The hyena paced first — all teeth and panic. The zebra broke wrong, the orangutan came, tragic. Then Richard Parker, eyes like a verdict. I bowed to fear, and fear bowed back. I let it hold the terror, the wound, the track. I will survive — I will survive — on the small fierce edge of now. A story can save me — a story can save me — when truth is too wide to allow. The story with animals is the better story — Richard Parker keeps my heart on watch through the dark — memento mori! "I must say a word about fear." So I did, and kept it near. To endure is not to conquer, only to survive — the mind must stay with what it cannot bear alive. A story is a raft in the dark. I will survive — I will survive! A story is a raft in the dark! The story with animals is the better story! Richard Parker keeps my heart on watch through the dark — memento mori! "I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go." Letting go.
