I am in the bottom of an arid sea.
There is too much, too much
air around me.
The billowy masts of invisible fleets
are fleeing this land,
Leaving North by Northeast,
streaming trails of sails dissolving behind...
On they come, ever onward and gone,
dragging heavy phantoms of their hulking hulls,
a skulking mass of shadows
scudding across this scape below
I would that I could go,
Toss up my child and sail away
from this shipyard full of ghosts and umbrage...
But the one on which I'd go is all but gone,
a memory just,
and a ruff of rippling vapor...
And I cannot breathe.
I am scuttled--drowned--sunk by all this
air around me.
I lie between the sheets of grass and dew
tucked in tight beneath the dark sky
too tight
the expanse muffles
molds around me like plastic
Stifling
Smothering
I am of the earth
yet it pricks me still
I hope an escape can present itself in a more solid manner than the 'ruff of rippling vapor'...and the ghostly imagery abate to leave calming seas which give a rich breath of life once more...
Love,
Diana....
I'm not the writing talent you are but I can share delight in this kind of talent. Blessings,
Christine
Ron