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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