Death in the Water


I see a cold stare reflect from the water.
Hands outstretched before me.
A mute invitation or inaudible plea?
Raindrops splash against the surface,
out of the ripples the faces form.
In union they tell their stories with a voice of silence.
Lost soul perhaps?
Bewitched by the touch.
Below the point where air can reach.
Shadows from the tree above define a ghostly frame,
consumed by the heavy blackness,
trapped in His domain.

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