I Dove and Dove Again

I dove.

I dove again.

And again.

And again.

I could not leave you where they left you.

Your soul struggling for salvation

Deep in those dark, unholy, black waters

So close to hell. So close to hell.

Your body bloating and disintegrating

Into the louring seabed below.

I dove and dove, reaching and grasping to find you.

Until my hands finally touched your skin.

And I brought you home.

I dove.

I dove again.

And again.

And again.

My strong, calloused hands found and brought you home.

The life and love gone from your amber eyes

The eyes I lovingly and passionately dove into every night.

Seaweed all tangled up in your golden red hair.

Your lips once warm and moist with honey

Were now cold, blue, and briny from the sea.

I lifted you up and carried you back home.

Back home hidden deep in the dark recesses

Of the sanctified holy ground

They tried to deny you because of our sin.

I dove.

I dove again.

And again.

And again.

My mother’s childhood rosary beads

Entwined in your fingers.

Your body wrapped in the blanket we loved so hard beneath

I prayed and covered you with the sacred promise of love.

As I dove into the hot lava river of grief

Disguised as a small glass flask in my back pocket.

I deeply gulped and sank into its smoky oblivion

Knowing it was all that would sustain my soul

Until God brings us back together again.

I dove.

I dove again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

This poem is a follow-up to this poem, “The Harlot” The Harlot. The desperate howl | by Julie Longstreet Wehmeyer | Sep, 2021 | Medium