Do you remember those whose eyes invariably betray their escape down some mental lane? Theirs is the River God - a god with no master but whose mistress stands between the seen and unseen, at a crossroads where already too many have lost sight of the direction from which they came - Hecate.1
They are drawn to the water, these people, to its silent depths. I see them, I hear their cries. I have been where they too often are and so know them by their voices - I recognize their journey through plight as mine. 2
This then is hell, not the fiery depths of an inferno but the watery graves from which we wrought our souls. And I, somehow, am in it. Ankle deep, the waters rise and, as colours fade, I become aware that this is a place from which I must once have strayed – I am familiar with its current pulling, pulling, measuring my strength with its almighty presence, gathering its force, marshalling its mass as it moves. I am moved. I lose my footing momentarily and am amazed to find this water buoys me. I might, if I let it, float, and yet, I may drown. 3
There we stood, caught like an image on film, too briefly together, on an island between worlds. Yes, these were the crossroads where time and tide decided our fate - Had we but known it. There we all stood, some, years hence, perhaps to return; some forever changed: and others? Others who can never be the same – damned by the slow, deep waters; caught up in the undercurrent, until, fully submerged they find they are no longer lost between two worlds but drowned in an internal sea of grief .4
This is not your story, but mine, as you sought it – part keeper of my soul. For you stood a long while beside me as I felt the waters rise. You saw me, but, in saving yourself, I slipped out of your reach and drowned. Now I reside in the rivers of the souls that knew me. To you, now, I am but a voice from long ago, a presence, familiar, in the gentile breeze – and my tears, my tears are but river water. 5
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Author notes
On suicide: you told me once that it would be selfish; do you remember? And you were right, for in our failure to survive we damn each other. For all who love and know, such grief would be a fatal legacy. The waters run deep when they are silent. Speak. I will not have you drown for my grief and I will not drown for your grieving.
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Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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I agree, You have a very expressive way with words and it shines through in Your writes
Josephine. by the way where in Malta do You live? My Mother is from Mgarr Malta, My Father, Husband and relatives scattered from Mellieha, through to St Pauls Bay to Qawra, but I have friends all over. I am coming to Malta first time ever this year
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Valuable
Hi there. Thanks for taking the time - I value your insights and will do some work on it. Also, thank you for the encouragment - something we all need at times. -
So would I I always learn something about myself in other people's stories
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"came, Hecate" (or is it Hectate?) "these people - to its silent depths." "Through plight once mine." "And I am moved: I lose my footing etc." "Some years ago," not "hence." Hence deals with the future. You sometimes use commas you don't really need, and I don't have time to go through them all. But, even with its flaws this is an exceptional piece of work that I hope you are proud of. Good job!!! -oce
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You never fail to make me smile. How are you? I guess I'm a tough old bird after all Behind every piece of fiction there is a bit of truth and, inveriably, behind every bit of truth there is a great deal of fiction. You are right - I lived to tell the tale. Perhaps, one day, we can swap stories. I'd like that.
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Tell me, if you would, what punctuation would you change? : for ; ?
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Thank you. It has too many words for what I wanted to say. I want to pare it down but as yet don't know how.
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Yes, life is a gift. One that is too close, too painful and too much to take at times. At others, too fragile, too breathtaking and too short to take for granted. I'm glad you like the piece though. Thanks for writing.
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Yes, I have to say that I'm not too happy with the punctuation either and every time I read it there is something I want to tinker with. Punctuation can be HELL. Thank you for your comment.
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I have found that if you learn to swim horizonal to the shore, you won't be pulled under ... the water will carry your weight if you kick like a stuborn ass intent on survival
... I hope I can get you to explain the story behind this poem coz I can relate to it so well ... and you're still alive so your grief didn't pull you under either
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This is good. There are a few things I would change, in particular some of the punctuation, but this is quite good. It reminds me of depression. It can be like that. Good! -oce
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great
ooooohhhhhhhhh my, you are very expressive. this poem about life is very inspiring and geniously written. incredible. nothing else to say except good job and keep it up. -
sigh
Life is a gift, and we should take it. Someone who kills him- or herself must be very, very desperate to turn it away.
A grand piece.
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