I can’t breathe

She trashes underwater

Clawing for air

Feet weighed down.

Sinking.

She can see the surface-

Her children, their dreams.

Nani. She wants to be a Nani.

She doesn’t want to go.

Her husband makes calls.

She needs but a simple molecule-

Two atoms of oxygen in an eternal waltz.

The bottom looms closer.

She sinks.

Gasping

Crying

“I can’t breathe”.

Her husband punches numbers.

The phone rings, unanswered.

Powerless to cut the call, he hopes.

There are no numbers left.

Helpless, he dials again.

He can’t meet her eyes.

He’s failed her-

She who he promised to protect.

Her eyes seek his out.

Her wide, terrified eyes.

“Save me”, they plead.

He can’t.

She’s gone.

Guilt.

Rage.

Emptiness.

Grief is a Bloody Moon.