There is a nightmare that often haunts me,
About a river oozing out to sea,
Trapped on a raft without even an oar,
Drifting endlessly beyond sight of shore.
Sometimes in the distance I’d hear a cry,
And brave the river for a chance ally,
Swallowing fear, I abandon my raft,
To clamor aboard a similar craft,
Empty, abandoned – so my hopes deflate,
Alone in the darkness again, my fate.
Nothing quite captures the dread sensation,
The terror of my own conjuration,
Than to call out in desperation,
And hear your voice be brought to cessation.
Prompt: “I used to value the silence, but now it is deafening,” from L-.