“Is it you who makes me stay?

Who controls the waves?

The swaying stalks?

The deadly bays?”

“And if it were?”

A voice replied,

“Would you swim ashore?

Instead face the sky?”

I hold my ground

But tread in the water.

“Cold now, the currents grow,

The sun has set, your shadows totter.”

There is no bottom

To this the blackest lake.

And her voice surrounds,

“Then leave, unless there is more to take.”

“But where to go?

If the past has died?”

“Still on down the stream

To journeys onward,” she softly cries.

I see shadows lean further in

Now serpents cinch, and I suffocate.

Still my voice sounds out, no trace of pain,

“I’ll go- just not now. Please, a moment longer.”