08-27-2011, 10:25 PM
Criss was supposed to do an escape from Lake Mead and in anticipation, I wrote this poem. It now fits the escape that he did at Lake Havasu much later.
Escape From Lake Mead
My heart is beating beyond my chest and pounding in my ear.
He’s been in the water far too long. My body is drenched in fear.
Surface now! My voice cries out, but it’s a cry he will not hear.
I pray for his life as he battles the chains while I try to hold back a tear.
Bound and weighted his crew had cast him into the lake to begin.
The bubbles came up as he went down to face his challenge and win.
Darkness, darkness, total darkness like a black hole sucking him in.
In this situation, most people would panic, but he is not like most men.
He takes the pick he holds in his teeth and starts the task at hand.
He prays he can hold onto the pick and not drop it into the sand.
There is a rhythm in his movements like those of a marching band.
He struggles and struggles with one of the locks as he longs to be on dry land.
“Houdini”, he thinks, “What would you do? What’s the next move you would make?”
Inspiration strikes. The cuffs fall off and become lost to the lake.
Above, the crew hopes he is fine while under the bright sun they bake.
Faster and faster he removes his restraints. His lungs have had all they can take.
He finally breaks the water’s surface, and the crowd begins to cheer.
He gasps for breath as outstretched arms try to pull him near.
As he addresses the crowd that stands before him, he tries to make himself clear.
“If you believe in yourself, mind, body, and spirit, you’ll overcome your fear.”
Life is but a series of memories you make.