It happened the moment before I struck thirty, the golden year.
I heard them as I said it. I heard them as they sank into the sea.
The overpowering energy that comes from the vibrations of a singing chorus. A song of sadness, of terror, peace, anger and acceptance.
Fire and water.
I can’t scream loud enough.
Tears falling, smudging the pages. It’s silent, too high to be heard, screaming into the heavens.
I hear them.
Torn from their children.
Ripped from life into service.
I can’t stop hearing them.
133. A number I wear around my neck. A house. Wanted so badly.
The number of hearts forced upon the sea. She accepts them cruelly, gently.
Taken by the slow rock of her waves.
The sound rings in my ears as the words go through my mouth.
Deafening. No air.