The Drowning

I was certainly not depressed when I wrote this poem, but I generally find it easiest to relay emotions that are opposed to those I am currently feeling. I don't know if everyone is this way, but often my most cheerful or beautiful poems come when I am most depressed, while my poems of death and destruction find their way out in my happiest times. Funny, but that's how it is. I suppose it is a sign that we can best express not what we truly are, but what we truly desire or lack.


The Drowning

Rippling the water
with a shrill and shivered cry,
and wings that beat a frenzy,
in a final, fluttered try -
a vain attempt to rise up
to the mountains and the sky;
naught but the hope of one who’s fated
nevermore to fly.