My mother’s husband tried to drown me in the bathtub.
He didn’t know how I amazed my friends by holding my breath
longer than anyone in the pool at the Saint Mary’s park recreational center
where hallways are painted with the images of Marvel superheroes like Captain
America
Not ready to breath water, my brain flashed exit strategies
until it settled on one:
PLAY DEAD
The boy I was went into violent convulsions and then
lifeless in the waters. And that horrific scene made my poor mother’s spouse
let go of my neck and run out of the apartment with an awful shriek into the
streets of The South Bronx.
I stood up on golden sands of Orchard Beach, The French
Riviera of The Bronx, and pulled down my first diver’s mask purchased with
money I made from shining shoes opposite a newsstand next to The White House, a
supermarket on Prospect Street.
I walked on water
before a galaxy of an ocean made me feel the power of flight span wider than
the white wings of seagulls in shades of blue skies.
The waters washed over memories of belt lashings on my back
and healed me from the brutality of gangs, police, politicians, bullies jealous
of my grades, drugs and addicts in burnt out buildings and other social ills
spoiling a beautiful planet.
As the boy I was flew deeper into a part of Heaven on Earth
called The Atlantic, he heard the sea sing like angels in songs never heard by
human beings. Not a word. Experience.
Freedom.
This is freedom
I was free.
Freedom to find Atlantis
How poetic I’m Aquarius
The Water Bearer
To Be Continued
Copyrighted Art & Text & Photography By
DAAD/ Daniel Angel
Aponte Dreamer 2017
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