Grindstone
Grey, the sky, my soul, merging, endless, cold. I look out across the field, dripping green, alive but drowning.
The barbed wire sneaks off towards the horizon, losing itself in the grey dampness that swallows everything. It hurries across the fields to me.
My coat blackens with the rain, I stand, I am not waiting. The world revolves towards me like a giant grindstone, overwhelming.
I am standing in a river that flows from my dripping hair, floods across my face and fills my mouth. Words bubble out, cascading into the rain running down to my flooded shoes.
Alone in my field, lost to the world I can no longer see or hear, a world that never asked to see or hear me.