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Poem

The struggle.
The tugging, the pushing,
The shoving, the screaming,
The fighting, the crawling,
The hurting, the bleeding,
The sickening, the hating,
Oh the tension that is snapping,
How could this be happening, he wonders.
Wonders just as the thunderous boom
The boom that echoes in his skull.
It is now, that his head is so clearly full.
Full of understanding.
On the floor his face is landing.
All the while, the hater.
How could he hate her?
And there he falls, his mind now empty.
She visits him in the cemetery.
An empty, mysterious token.
Something that she had not spoken.
The things for which he was mistaken.
And there, the time is coming.
The date is set.
Will they forgive her?
Or will they hate her too?
Somehow, among it all, she is let go.
Where will she go? 
How can she go away from what she knows?
What will she do?
Time passes for her, and she sees not its vantages.
She still reapplies old bandages.
She cries herself to sleep.
But she still remembers how the water was so deep.
And there, in her house by the sea.
No-one saw when she waded into the water.
Forgetting the late hater.
Not remember to swim when she came to her height. 
Yet from under the water:
The lantern amidst the dark, was bright… 
How well did it feel to have been right…
She wondered what it would be like.
There they say she wades in the water,
never sooner than later.
Always with enough time to see the cold, dead skies above her…
Skies: Floating… floating into the open, the dark and unknown…
Swimming without pattern into the deep, 
Deep, deep sleep.?The sleep of a September that she will never forget to always remember.

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