On my back barely beneath water,
the soft sand molds me to form,
I’m dense, settled in with full gravity,
heavy human-molten, I dare myself to breathe
in the liquid as at birth my lungs
accustom to the wet, I relax accepting
this will end soon, I smile
at diffracted rays of sun, the final light
I will see this time around; this drowning
is not so hard, it’s more a state of mind.

Chagall 2015