I want to fly but fall like
a silent prayer.
My limbs are an anchor
as I slip beneath the surface.
Opened mouthed my lungs expand,
my once struggling palms lie flat
as gentle waves of the river rock me.
Strands of weed mingle with my breath,
my only thing of value.
Everything beautiful is here,
all that was lost.
Birds chorus to the ancient stones.
A thousand warriors rest in an
estuary of flowers,
I can hear their mournful lament.
Celtic Woman…art by Woad