Drowned When Deceased

White water waves rush at my feet,
they are lost in the foam,
swept away with the concrete I used to stand upon,
floating so far away…
My face is filled with flesh
so plain;
those eyes, they lie
and that mouth, it hisses and spits.
Black, white and grey images pass me by,
swirled together
by my mindless head so weak.

I rock back,
to and fro and to and fro,
there’s never any significant change,
just the elastic yellow turning to grey.
Stunning statues and fantastical fires
should breathe life into these passing souls –
mine stands still and white –
shrouded in a fog so thin, yet unbreakable.
Like tissue paper…

There’s a bridge…
or, rather, there was a bridge,
before His oceans raged up and swallowed it
whole – a mighty tempest!
Knocking down the bricks like pebbles…

Perhaps I am underneath it;
the waves and the bridge,
am I alone?
My feet are replaced by fins;
they feel rough against my skin,
unfamiliar.
Wriggling, I cannot be freed,
so I accept.
Suddenly, I can soar with ease,
no friction or hopes to prevent me,
I am strong within the water’s prison.
My arms once cold to the brittle bone,
now rejuvenated beneath the surface,
pushing away what is useless.

I do not belong in their world,
so new to this one.
I probably won’t survive.

Into the unknown black abyss I go.