Thursday, April 16, 2009

The Dead Sea

Ebbing water traces a path to my throat.
Rests, taunts, beckons fear.
Hands rise up, gnarled tree roots clawing at my face.
I am silently overwhelmed.

Merciless current renders me paralysed; stifled.
Caught on on the bough that could not weather the storm.

Sorrow assails with a vulture's precision;
Relentless pecking from the inside,

My dreams are forsaken, rippling echoes; a mishap of time.

The water's reflection beguiles those not yet trapped.

I linger with a futile longing.

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