to the immortal jellyfish

somedays, i wish i were you.
 
i’m stunned, again and again,
by the way you defy death-
by your ability to sense danger, to sense the
predator slinking closer and closer,
his nose slowly approaching,
his mouth smirking and his claws reaching out,
and then return to
your juvenile state.
by the ability to stick out a tentacle
and grab time by its collar,
to whisper your command in its ear,
to watch as the moments of your life
fall in reverse. in a split second,
the danger has retreated,
your body has shrunk,
your eyes have closed,
and you are once more
the creature that cannot be broken,
that cannot be harmed by the harsh world that
pulls the end of the rope too sharply.
 
i wonder if you know your own power.
i wonder if you smile as you escape
death time and time again,
as your body molds to the soft ocean floor
and you return to childhood.
 
i wonder if you know about immortality and mortality,
if you know how much we would give up
to go back in time and reverse our mistakes and sadness,
or if immortality doesn’t occur to you,
and you don’t realize how incredible your species is.
 
i envied you when i wished i could reverse time,
when i wished i could go back to
the days when i wasn’t constantly worried
about the future,
when i wanted to hold a hand longer than
death allowed,
when i wanted to have control over my existence.
 
i still envy you,
now,
when the constant threat of death
lurks behind me,
streets filled with turmoil
and faces distorted in sorrow
while you stay on the floor of the ocean
underneath miles and miles of water,
surrounded by other jellyfish and corals,
reversing time
to keep yourself alive.