One toe in the water

I wondered what the water below might feel like,
but I always worked hard to stay above it.
I took comfort in an ability to maintain my position,
taking for granted that things could never change.
But now as the waters lick my feet,
I hear the cries from below and laughter from above.
I stabbed hard at the swirling laughing face.
I jumped for something that wasn’t there,
then fell into the water up to my neck.
Panic, stress, anxiety and guilt pull me from below.
The clouds pour torrents of a bile rain from above.
Three feet below, I look up at the blood and rain
spreading a network of ripples across the surface.
Do I fight to survive, or give in to my sorrow?
If I fight and reach the surface, who will emerge?
Surly not the same person that dove in.
My last breath of air fading, I let go of the old self.
I break the surface and breath in a heavy air.
The laughing face now wounded, crying, but forgiving.
For now I will remain half in, half out until my true self
can emerge with the knowledge and understanding of the
consequences of what I have done and how to react in the future.
For that I will always need to have one toe in the water.