“Buried”

In a stroll down the sand of a brightly lit beach,

A wave crashes down on me

no time to think,

no time to breathe.

Each second a war,

every minute a decade,

every hour a life,

days non-existent.

Alternating between the surface

and down inside the thick water

Each tiny breath a heaven

where hell is a permanent resident.

The water retreats out

into an endless horizon

I lay atop the wet sand

Breathing,

still alive

with a single memory

of a meeting with death

postponed, but you still remember its unholy scent.