Her body still not void of a soul,
her fresh corpse danced
to the tune of the undercurrent
in that abyss beneath.
Beneath the veiling surface
which the living cannot see through.
Sorrows of the deep, even within
a living, breathing corpse,
drown in agony over and over,
as is the case with suicides.
As they vainly scream mercy
to shut ears in the heavens.
Lady Sorrow’s corpse
had descended deeper
into abysmal depths
which only God’s eyes
could penetrate with their purity.
In denial she was in life,
pious now as she suddenly
became conscious…
***
A rest without the delicacy of sleep,
rather an unending wakefullness
to her death. A death which came
almost the instant she shattered
the glassy surface of the sea,
and as her lungs filled with the sea,
her sorrows still did not disappear,
rather she felt she had died already
in life, and was dying again,
and would die more in death.
Lady Sorrow knew all along,
in life, on the cusp of death,
and in death, that she would
die a lady of sorrow.
And as her body has withered
and dessicated like a fallen leaf,
fallen from the heights
of what was an empty home,
into a sea of greater sorrows,
her eyelids creaked open…
***
Within this watery grave,
her vision blurred by a
fresh rewakening,
she knew then the vanity
of taking that leap.
The vanity of leaping
down into the heavens
and looking high up into
what was her living hell.
A hell which no flame burned,
nor ice sheeted over,
rather the blackness of sorrow
crawled beyond the bounds
of the sunlight, within that
empty home atop that precipice,
where hell rested atop heaven…
***
Below the breathing winds,
below the lapping waves,
within the heartbeat of this sea,
Lady Sorrow’s pulse somehow
began to drive the blood
through her corpse
and as those living eyes
were given to the dead,
and with this sudden surge
of an awakening to the vanity,
the sea flushed from her lungs
and air bloated within them.
She dove upwards to hell,
leaving the abyss of heaven,
resurfacing with a scream!
Her hell had only just begun…
To be continued…
