Photograph: Cosmos Chi Kung Ping Pong Club

Grace Young (Grade 11)

The water forms fluid lashes of cold, licking my eyelids. The water is so transparent it darkens as I sink, entrapping me in its bitterly heavy shadows. My chest is sharp with pain. Does water crystallize at its depths and enter my lungs? Or am I simply aching with longing for cool air? The water is so cold.

I walk slowly to the water ’ s edge, whose fingertips drag the sand into patterned foam. Caressing the shore is the art of nature, belonging to the trees ’ shadows and those crystalline waves. There is a divet in the beach. An indent from the picnic blanket that rested upon its forehead, positioned at the view point of the horizon. A wrinkle along the many wrinkles. But this one is special. Here, were bright bursts of strawberry juice trickling down chins, and laughter caressing the shore with an art form more immature than joy. Jubilance. They sat here with the happiness equal to two days ’ worth of walking the beach. They found each other, while walking the beach, like a shell you might pick up and press to your ear, listening to the sounds of the ocean. Immortalized life of the water, cupped in your hand.

Do not disturb me in this state between life and death, though I long for help. Perhaps this is my reckoning after days on the surface - I must now sink deep below. The broken shadows of algae clouds cloud my vision. Criminal, isn ’t it? That gravity works slower underwater, the density oppressing my breaths that are too dense to work against the pressure of the sea. I should never have walked this beach.

The wind whips through my hair as I sink into the heavy stillness of a long drive home after a cold day. If I had taken your hand, would the waves keep moving? Or is the moment too heartstopping? I will wait here forever. Unconsciously, you move closer, and my breath wanes. I will keep smiling at your touch until it becomes forever, but even then I don ’t know if I could stop. If this moment was a dream, I would not pinch out an escape from my meager imagination. You are too good to be true.

The waves are pulled by the moon, and the waves pull at my breath. The ocean is selfish. Water and life belong to each other, but the ocean is so far from its soul, it hates its soulmate. It must steal mine. My breath wanes. How much longer is the death of forever? I should have taken your hand.

The sunrise sighs behind the horizon, telling us we must say goodbye to goodnight. I cannot let go of what could’ ve been, your hand still lying on the seat of the car. I don ’t want us to wake up, to no longer be pulled by the moon. The aftertaste of strawberries is strong. I could not take your hand for a moment and not hold on for forever. But maybe we still have forever…

My darling, live on in forever. Don ’t come closer. I am forever in death.