A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

Contradictory feelings
obscure the waters,
like the white foam
on the Franklin rapids.
The proffered hand,
just within reach,
may offer salvation
or damnation.
Instinct, pushing for survival,
by any means,
conflicts with Determination,
whose pride would rather die trying
than submit to the assumptions
of the hand that claims to know best.
The prospect of
sinking
beneath
the foam
is oddly comforting,
but the hand persists,
thrusting downwards, searching,
and the moment of warm flesh
against flesh
is in stark contrast to the crush
of the violent, icy water.
In an instant, the battle is lost,
as the strength of the grasp of the unknown hand
becomes greater than the contractile force
of oxygen-deprived myocytes,
and the limp body of Pride
finally surrenders to the unknown.