Stale Water
Half conscious, half asleep,
not in the light,
but not in the dark,
Wind gently waving above the surface,
but never quite touching it,
never rising waves.
She was lying in her gray savane,
not yet dead but no longer feeling
the rush of life in her veins,
Watching the shadowy shapes around her
but never quite seeing
what they really are.
Sometimes she desperately wanted to wake up,
to get out of her stale lake,
to reach for the sun and be kissed by its rays.
Sometimes she thought she only dreamed about waking up,
thought she dreamed and made up her life’s story,
thought that she was water and water was her.
She lived and she died. He lived and he died.
They lived and they died,
half awake and half dreaming,
wasting their lives in the muddy water,
Never quite waking up and never quite living.
© illirein 2018













