The Buoyancy of Grief

Nothing else.
Just the solid blue depth
of Mediterranean sky.
None but my own
beating heart
through the water,
the gentle lapping
the hollow
amplified sounds
of my own breathing and grief.

My hands look warped in aspect, underwater larger than above,
an uneven grafting,
the stitching poor.
An undertakers temporary work.
Could your life have been bigger
submerged in salty water?
Instead of being reduced
to  insignificance,
drowning under a mask
that kept broken lungs pumping.
Could the function of your lungs
have been amplified
in the buoyancy of salt water?
Could my tears
have kept you from death?
I have cried enough now
to fill oceans,
dense salty tears,
enough to support you forever
in the buoyancy of grief.

© Dave Kavanagh @

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