Learning To Breathe Again

I learned to breathe by being dumped unceremoniously On the shores of some distant world I had heard only through flesh-muffed sounds Of an encapsulated ocean, for nine months. I learned to walk by falling down again and again And persevering, though covered in bruises Because someone continued to hold their arms out toward me. I did not blame the ocean. I did not blame the arms. I learned words by being spun around, knocked down, Held underwater, and having my legs kicked out from under me Again and again, until words were all that remained of my distant pain: A world outside me, of tiny blows raining down like somebody's dripping laundry, My mouth filled with nonsense syllables, spit out through choking seaweed; And all because someone would not embrace me: I have now become inscrutable as any ocean- But I will never blame the falling rain.