Opehlia

Artist unknown

The Prince of Denmark is no joy to be around nowadays,

Sulking, sneering, spewing hurt.

Distrust, death and misery, whenever he came in.

Hatred, hot like molten iron,

Scalding, scarring,

I can't take this anymore.

The lake at the end of the vineyard looks cool.

I jump.

The heat from Hamlet's hatred fizzles out.

I feel good, safe.

Water finds its way into me.

Soothing every wound he had inflicted on the inside.

I can feel sunlight fading away,

The depths of the lake feels better than home.

Maybe this was my home,

Maybe this is homecoming.

I take a last shuddering breath,

Water is filling every pore and creak.

I slowly open my eyes,

It's emerald green around me,

Lotus vines and fishes,

Faintest light breaking through the water.

I look down and smile,

This is better for swimming,

Stronger than legs, more mystical.

I hoot in joy and swim towards the light,

Surface of the water breaks,

Letting me out.

I breathe as easily as I did underwater.

I laugh, and it echoes through the woods.

I dive under, knowing I can come back up any time I want.