It doesn’t take water to drown. It only takes
an absence of air from a shock to the system.
That one tiny moment when disbelief
dissolves recognition or
grief consumes reason.
The moment that
expands in
waves onto
your private beach
bringing a loss of direction, a losing
of way, a distortion of things once solid.
Falling into murky silence where everything
is muffled, the insulation entices. Just close your eyes and drift.