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