one and the same

Blameless fights, small town warfare. Consider red and what it carries. My bruised knuckles hang over this warm body. I’m simply tired, and I hear my name echo under low-hanging clouds. I didn’t know, when I jumped with tightly shut eyes, that the water would protect me.

“Lay your hand, over this body.”

Born specifically of a fight, “one and the same” reflects on my experience living and growing up in a small lake town in western Canada. Late one evening, with bruised and swollen knuckles, I found myself swimming against stormy waves in a warm and misty body of water.