The absence of fear is a failure
of imagination. Have you ever dipped

beneath the ocean’s surface?
Sirens lure with the promise of what’s

known, never to reveal the twisting tail hidden
below. The terror of sharks pales once

you’ve heard the heartbeat of the planet’s oldest
song, the blue press of an unbearably

vast embrace. Anything could lurk below.
Not even sound echoes in the darkness

of some subaquatic trenches, not even
light. Who is to say what doesn’t swell

in the deep? I’ve learned to inhabit my own
body. This arm only stretches so far. These fingers?

Mine. They close around the current and brine
escapes between knuckles. In the ocean, lines

blur, only skin separates my flesh
from the unknown. Water unfolds beyond

sight, its body stretches forever. This is the great
fear that yawns under the surface. Do you see it?