Drowning<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
First you hear the sharp crack of winter
\nsplitting itself from itself. Then you hear the screams,
\nyour brothers on the shoreline safe, frantic,
\ntransforming into heroes. Then, silent, the quiet
\nunderwater, the silence of a winter lake.
\nAmazing when you’re eight.<\/p>\n
Falling through the ice, it happens suddenly and slowly.
\nYou watch it all from a distance, like peering
\naround the corner late at night,
\nspying on your parents, on a separate life.<\/p>\n
You think you’d like to spend more time down there,
\nsearch for creatures slowly breathing, hibernating, look
\nfor the secret place turtles retreat to in the cold.
\nFind a place to sleep away your life.<\/p>\n
But instead, you yell, you reach for the surface, hold
\non to the jagged edge marking your path down. Hold on,
\nhold on, they call. They toss themselves onto the ice,
\nreaching, lashing you with their love.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Debra Revere<\/a>\u00a0is a Research Scientist and Clinical Faculty working in the field of biomedical and public health informatics at the University of Washington in Seattle, WA. She is widely published in her research field which focuses on understanding the information needs of public health. Debra has been writing poetry since she was 9 years old. Her first poem was published in the Lawrenceville Elementary School newspaper, an ode to the Easter Bunny. \u00a0She lives in Seattle.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Drowning First you hear the sharp crack of winter splitting itself from itself. Then you hear the screams, your brothers on the shoreline safe, frantic, transforming into heroes. Then, silent, the quiet underwater, the silence of a winter lake. … Continue reading