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  • Writer's pictureErin

SLUSH (A Poem)

from the trails of Deer Creek on 2/20/2022

The water seems fairly frozen in most parts.

Maybe it's slush, but there are significant lines marking the end of solid ice and the beginning of slushy water.

One is darker than the other.

There's this spot, though, to my left that is neither slush nor ice.

With the way the sunlight shines on it, it's almost black in comparison.

You can see the ripples from the breeze,

signifying that it's one of the few open spots in the lake.

It's inviting.

I know the water is frigid since most is frozen solid,

yet that dark spot in the ice is calling my name.

It draws me in.

It feels safe.

Like it's an opening to another world

and maybe life would be better if I just took the leap.

If I removed my shoes and clothes that tie me to this world

and dive in.

It looks as if the darkness continues further:

even further than the ground I know is beneath it.

It feels like it's its own little pond,

begging for someone to sink.

Will I dive?

Will I sink?

Or will I just become another marking in the water,

drawing someone else in?


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