Not My Boat

Not My Boat:

There are children and an ocean, a deep ocean, with a boat moving out. No, it’s only a lake. But it feels like an ocean. There’s depression, too. Obviously. And who would think there could be so much interesting in depression, and what we would be helpless to. Being a human can be a horrible horrible experience, and this poem makes it clear that the person speaking here knows how horrible it is when you care. I can feel like this person cares. I care now, too.

I want to row out to find the child that Zeller is talking about here. Even when it feels like the child is the one on the table right beside her. No one is moving. Stomachs are emptied. I feel emptied when I’m reading this poem. And that’s good.