there it was
this small hill,
this little insignificance
that once stood
as a mountain in the clouds;
that once rose as rocky precipice
tearing the sky open

now low brought
by wind and by rain,
low brought in numbness,
slow and prodding,
year by year by year;
and no one even sensed the difference
save for the ease of the climb
and loss of the view

 

it was only the water
and the waves,
the way they rolled
over and over my head
so that sky was submerged
by greygreenblue

it was only the water
on steely grey cloud morns,
under a thin white mist
that hid me from the world
that i might lie beneath
and beyond any reach