This article was a finalist in the 2024 IA Writing Competition Most Enthralling Creative Work category. You can read the excellent work of all our finalists HERE.
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This poem is an *IA Writing Competition (creative work category) entry.
Catching air
I drop in late. I am flying again…
But I am not quite there, so I cut back hard and I am catching air.
We paddled as one; now there is only me.
I saw it coming, I can read the sea.
The tide had changed. We stayed too long.
I wanted more and it was wrong?
The tides are set as if in stone,
not by a surfer drifting on his own.
Riding the wave, you are on show
but fall, get pressed, you must let go.
It's power raw; there is no point to fight;
you are now in deep not taking flight.
I am a surfer, I know the score
and in time, with patience, I will make the shore.
It just can’t be hurried as the sea decides;
a surfer is just there to ride.
You’re safe at home where you should be?
You made your choice and you are free.
I don’t reach out. There is no one there.
I am almost done and I am out of air.
I am resigned
and the choice is made.
I break the surface;
"one more wave".
* Full IA Writing Competition details HERE.

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