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#QuemPensa é Spiralist: “Immersion”

#QuemPensa é Spiralist: “Immersion”

Already rewinding their memories to the good old days.


A morning like any other
In a town where time sleeps
I woke up oblivious to all that had gone the day before

Nothing could have prepared me
For the morning’s scent of mourning
The pale commuters and unintelligible chatter…

That morning feels hazy in memory
For I was not yet truly awake
I still stood unconscious

The word found it’s way to me.

He’d skipped school the day before
Fled over the grid when no one was looking
And ventured into the woods with friends
Under a perfect summer teasing spring afternoon
Headed into the cool central lake, untouched for years
Away from everyone.

There, water splashed against the faces of innocence
The seemingly perfect send-off to an uneventful childhood
In communion with peers
And stillness of nature

So He was meant to have stayed in shallow water
But He was a rebel in the making_
And kept testing the waters fearlessly
Wandering farther and farther away, unaware of…

Oh yes,
He couldn’t swim.

One step too far and down He went
Into life’s true originator
Flailing His arms in slow motion
Sinking deep and steadily
Dragged below by enclosing algae
The last reserves of oxygen escaping

Imagine the realization of doom.

His friends laughed wildly at first
Certain that it had to be a cruel, immature joke
But then they saw His figure’s diminishing movements
And ruptured into a state of panic.

One threw his body into the water
Desperately reaching out, breathless
Another ran from the lake, tearful
In search of any adult he could come across
Until a local lumberjack was found
And together they ran back,
The man frantically calling for an ambulance
Which would arrive to no avail.

By the time they made it to the lake
He was in the arms of the traumatized swimmer
Tears and the lake’s water melding in unison
And the group’s faces, red

In a day like any other
In a town where time sleeps

So there I was, the following morning
Taking it in, processing the grief
My colleagues embracing and crying together
Already rewinding their memories to the good old days.

That night his body laid in a chapel
And I couldn’t bear to witness His cold, decomposing youth
My mother went for me, tried to comfort His mother
But to no avail… she told me she was a wreck.

The funeral was held the following day
Which, again, I could not bring myself to attend
I told myself it was in my best interest to stay in class
But I’m sure there must have been a more shameful reason

I regret not paying tribute to you
And saying a proper goodbye
          And for that I’m sorry,
          Old friend.
I still carry your face in my memory,
Unmarred by time.

 

Phantom – Dino Santos