Gradually she’s drowning in her thoughts, choking on waves of pain as they crash violently overhead.
Under the surface she creates an illusion, its seemingly calm, clear and tragically weightless. She remains guarded there with currents of grief swirling rapidly and unpredictably around her.
She tries to hold her breath and stay protected because although she’s drowning, it seems safer remaining underneath the chaotic waves above.
She is afraid of what will happen if she surfaces. Can she stay in this place forever?
If she breaks through the surface will she be taken out by her grief?
Will the might of the waves above crush her? Will the storm ever ease? Will the sun peer through the grey clouds hanging overhead?
She is afraid it won’t. Afraid that if she pushes to the surface, pushes herself into the storm, it will take her away. Will she be able to swim or will she wade in the storm indefinitely.
It’s the unknown that frightens her. She has always been so strong.
For now she’ll wait tragically weightless and graceful in her grief. Only allowing small breaths before diving back into her sheltered abyss.
It’s calm under the waves, deep in the darkness, ignorant of her reality.