Sink or swim, son

It was in a lake of broken glass
That I first learned how to swim
My daddy said "Sink or swim, son"
"Your hands will take you where your heart wants to go"
As he threw me in the deep end

But my hands were new
Not a cut, not a callus
They didn't yet know
How to follow my heart

In fear I tried to stay still
But bodies always move
And in each small motion
Each shard would make a cut

And so my daddy said
With his hands around his mouth
"It's cut or be cut, son"
"Neither you nor the glass may choose not to move"
"Only you may choose how to move"

I looked at my hands
They held their own blood
Why would he want this for me?
What did he know?

And I saw the crimson beads pulsate
And my fingers felt it too
I tried to stretch my arm out
But it was my heart that moved

And so my hands paddled
Once for every time my heart beat
Painful strokes at first
Cuts on my palms, my face, my chest
And as I gained speed
The glass began to give way

With time
My strokes learned grace
The sharp glass was made blunt
My cuts became scars
My scars faded, though they never left
And as I passed him
I heard my daddy say
"Now don't ever stop, son"
"Leave us all in your wake"