I tried to surface from this,
but you kept me down.
I stuck my head above the freezing water,
gasping for breath,
only to have your shadow fall over me,
Your righteous, uncomprehending shadow.
You pressed me down,
          back under.
Into the freezing water,
because I wasn't wet enough for you.
I wasn't cold enough.
I wasn't freezing yet.
I wasn't screaming in agony in your presence.

What the hell do you think I was doing,
Those hours underneath the water?
I couldn't breathe, but I could cry,
And cry I did, until I couldn't see:
my eyes blurred after hours of tears.
I was screaming.

You demand to know why I'm not dead,
Why I'm not catatonic,
Why I can still walk, and speak.
"Would you like to know why, dad?"
I say as I try to pull myself from the water.
Reflection upon my words keeps me from rising,
So I am forced to stay longer.
"Because I learned, dad.
I learned from the last time:
the last time I was left alone in the dark,
hopelessly injured without your guidance.
I never expected your help:
it had nothing to do with you,
so I made it on my own.
In doing so, I learned how to survive.
I learned how to pull myself up when I fell."

"I taught myself how to rebound, dad,
and that's what I'm attempting to do now.
I'm not sorry if it feels too early for you,
but you know what?
If I didn't do this now,
I would agonize over this every hour of every day,
and I don't want to do that.
I don't want to move on,
but I also don't want to be stuck here
while everybody else moves on."

"I'm sorry if this makes your life more difficult than before,
but if this is the case, then you're not the only one.
You are mentally making yourself the wronged one.
Look at me, dad. Do I look unscathed to you?"

My piece said, the air is silent.
He and I stare down each other,
the sounds of the freezing water
quiet in the background.
Will he let me up before the water freezes me,
Or do I have to force my way past him?