Words in the Water

Standing knee deep in cold water, swiftly moving, somehow I knew I’d lost
something
Wading waist deep I saw a book there in the river, waiting for me to find it
there
I tried to read it, neck deep, treading water, but the tide, it pulled me out
to sea
Then, with water in my eyes, the words began to rise from their place
They were beautiful and dread; I reached for them and fed on each phrase
They were honey on my lips, but then a bitter twist in my side
I knew they’d lay me in my grave; «Is there no one who can save me?» I cried
Sinking, down deep through cold water and heavy silence, shadows stirring in
the gloom
What things lay sleeping down deep in the darkness woke then, to find me in
that tomb?
Then, with water in my eyes, the words began to rise from their place
They were beautiful and dread; I reached for them and fed on each phrase
They were honey on my lips, but then a bitter twist in my side
I knew they’d lay me in my grave; «Is there no one who can save me?» I cried
And when I lost all hope to look, someone took that heavy book from my hands
All its weight they set aside, after they had satisfied its demands
I felt white and black reverse, and the lifting of a curse from my heart
Then like one receiving sight, I beheld a brilliant light in the dark