Floundering in a Pond of Water is for Drowning
Floundering in a pond of water is for drowning.
Darkness is the dearly departed’s abode. Why is
a watery grave as silent as a dirt filled mound?
Who among men lay claim to, too large a lie?
From darkness I’ve been held. A day will come;
therefrom, I’ll know resurrection. Death is not some
strange beast buried in a berm.
© 2018 by emmett wheatfall