Have you ever found yourself so deep underwater
and disoriented to the extent that you have lost a feel for which direction
will lead you to the assurance of the surface?
Perhaps
you have temporarily forgotten that a vital boundary resides somewhere,
passively awaiting your need for oxygen and light. There is no such thing as
humidity in such a dimension.
During
a sudden and startling lapse of memory, the surface has in fact ceased to
exist. And you are simply and stiflingly condensed by the pressure of the sheer
depth.
You
sense an overwhelming urgency to become one with the liquid substance that
embraces you, molding into your every curve and line like wily putty. You have
gone missing.
Without
light, you will eventually lose your sense of sight.
Lacking
stimulation, your nerve endings will fail to remind you when the act of touch or
unintentional contact is taking place. Physical matter will grow scarce.
Parched.
You
will not be able to confirm your suspicions that distance is gradually stretching
you across its medieval torture device. Common sense is absentminded beneath
the boundaries of the sea floor.
You find
yourself in an ocean beneath an ocean.
Layered,
muffled, and unreal, your salt settles.
Your
minerals lose their glimmer and disband like the escapees of pesticide’s
harmful intent.
There
is no color in this place; you are tasted by your surroundings- used and
discarded.
The
heart beats with the current of the subtle waves, and while you are consciously
unaware of this fact, your body lives as a bloodless algae. You ride at the
mercy of a mystery.
A
sunken vessel with a new identity.
This
is transition. In the womb of the earth. You will dawn again, someday.
10/9/14
Jennifer Burnside
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