hubris is deadly
yet you wore it like armor
yet you wore it like armor
It is strange to me, to see a woman with wings so close to the sea. She belongs to the skies, not the salt water and sand. I am there to return—and she is there, watching.
Hello, she says, brightly. have you come to see the ocean, too?
I do not recognize her; this should not strike me as strange, being how long I had been in Terrastella and the hospital. “No,” I answer. And admit, in words that do not fit comfortably in my mouth, in words that do not sound like my own: “I live in it.”
For a moment, I envy her incredibly naivety; the brightness of her expression, the morning sun against the white-capped waves. The sea, today, does not speak in anger, but in gentleness. She beckons with a soft touch, with small, lapping waves.
I step forward, from the edge of the beach and toward the water. I cannot disguise the long slit of my mouth, that betrays me as the thing I hate most: a water horse.
(Or, myself. I am still not sure).
The silence does not settle; and the thing within me roils, roils in the way I can smell the salt-sweat of her skin, and nearly feel the running beat of her pulse in the air. "Your name?" I ask, to fill the void. Just for a moment.
Hello, she says, brightly. have you come to see the ocean, too?
I do not recognize her; this should not strike me as strange, being how long I had been in Terrastella and the hospital. “No,” I answer. And admit, in words that do not fit comfortably in my mouth, in words that do not sound like my own: “I live in it.”
For a moment, I envy her incredibly naivety; the brightness of her expression, the morning sun against the white-capped waves. The sea, today, does not speak in anger, but in gentleness. She beckons with a soft touch, with small, lapping waves.
I step forward, from the edge of the beach and toward the water. I cannot disguise the long slit of my mouth, that betrays me as the thing I hate most: a water horse.
(Or, myself. I am still not sure).
The silence does not settle; and the thing within me roils, roils in the way I can smell the salt-sweat of her skin, and nearly feel the running beat of her pulse in the air. "Your name?" I ask, to fill the void. Just for a moment.
