©2023 michael raven
Finding that the ice floe under turquoise nights has now cracked, broken off and set adrift, my eyes turn to an ocean of stars coming in waves. There is fear of the unknown, that knee-jerk reaction of the tiny voice inside screaming, “This is different, I don’t like this”, and the other, more sensible voice soothing the other, stroking soft shoulders to calm. “This is what is always was, why are you surprised?”
Orca, Orca. Orca is my pilot, forget that other guy. I am the polar bear, slumbering, and Orca is waiting to wake me. Crow and Raven laugh as they always laugh — that bear is too dumb to wake, they say.
With a splash, he suggests otherwise and without a word, capsizes the flow sending me to the water.
Meanwhile, the reindeer… she smirks from the shore, watching as my eyes open wide as I swim frantically to obsidian sand, slumbering no more. Little voice shouts, “See! This is what I meant! Not safe! Different!”
Orca groans and my larger voice sighs inside.
sceadugenga 
What a lovely story.
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A bit silly too. My experimental stuff that I’m not sure was executed the way I intended for it to be when it was still in my head. I do that a lot.
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I think that’s the real struggle as a writer-translating what we know is the story into words. Words feel inadequate.
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Always. 😒
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I really like this piece, Michael. Quite the allegory for how we all react to change/difference/the new.
An experiment maybe, but an effective one.
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Thanks, Chris. I have a feeling I might be playing around with some of the ideas. We’ll see. My head is hung up on something.
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The orca, being my favorite animal ever, makes me absolutely love this. Not to mention the writer!! 😄
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Lol. Maybe I should write more orca material. 😉
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