Editor's Note

illustration by Kriztin Cruz

Trigger Warning

Content warnings: suicide, suicidal ideation, mental illness

the tragedy wasn’t found in the uproar of the deep blue

with which its crescendos supposedly meant to overpower that of the voices

it wasn’t in the silence casted,

kissing the shores, voids dissipating into sand temporarily, miraculously

and staring down the sea,

its bottomless pit staring back

was the advent of a homecoming long awaited

there was no tragedy in skin trailing with saltwater,

or in the currents’ arms rushing out,

wrapping her in a long embrace

there was no tragedy in a body sinking, following through the force into a quicksand of a vortex underwater

the tragedy wasn’t found in her lungs’ final conquest for oxygen

or in her eyelids shutting willing into surrender

there were no recaps of her best moments much less her whole life flashing through her eyes,

not even a dying wish

for drowning didn’t mean dying

-just simply coming home,

returning safely into the ocean floor

a few miles away where the gates of poseidon’s kingdom reign

or it was that, formality for a funeral years too late

she has long succumbed into the abyss

perhaps the whole time her breathing corpse

was the only thing afloat

the tragedy wasn’t found in appearing in the headlines as a teenage heartbreak turned statistic

once a lover friend daughter sister now no one, just a loss to mourn

-the tragedy was found on eyes fixated towards the ceiling, fluorescent lights staring down, mocking

whitewashed hospital walls surrounding her

and their supposed grief’s replaced by rejoicing in her wake

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