I Was Born Aboard the Titanic

I was born aboard the Titanic many years ago.
The ship that “even God himself cannot sink” according to its builders. What Man has pieced together, let nothing put it under –
the cold North Seas.

Being freshly come into the world, I did not realize that it was a doomed ship –
a star-crossed ship that was rapidly sinking.

The jagged, unseen giant beneath the frigid dark
had created an ever-widening chasm.
The unstoppable trickle, turned deluge became its undoing. The once celebrated behemoth became a cold, black tomb.

I was crying my first needy cries as the ship listed precariously. She purposely set me adrift in a small rubber raft, Forever untying the cord between us.
The music hypnotized and drew her.
She had dances to dance on the slippery, slanted, marble floor before the band stopped playing.

My raft and I bobbed away from the mayhem into the cold, starry night.
From a distance, I watched as the lights grew dim,

and the cacophony muted.
Cold and alone I stared up at the vast night sky.

The stars winked.
The stars and my raft became my rescuers, my comforters. How do I thank you my beautiful, ugly, cursed, blessed raft for carrying us through the storms, the tsunamis,
the dead in the water days where not a puff of air blew? The days we were immobile and alone.
You faithfully, valiantly kept us afloat.

Lazily drifting, my head on one side of you,
my feet resting on the other,
I remember the night you carried us away from the sinking ship. I remember the screams, the cries, the cursing,
and the deep moans as bodies slowly relinquished life, numbed fingers letting go,
sinking into the deep, dark, frigid abyss.
I recall my terror.
My aloneness.
Most of all, I recall the music.
The tired, tipping-over musicians who continued to play
on the wildly tilted dance floor
so that she could dance her dances.

Though she didn’t talk until she was three, Barbara is a lover of words both spoken and written. A rather late bloomer in both learning to speak and in learning to trust her inner voice and in finally feeling comfortable enough to write down her stories, she feels blessed to be making the journey towards healing and wholeness. She’s looking forward to continuing her journey of transferring her thoughts into written form and sharing them with others. She’s thankful to be part of the Red Tent community.