Now I walk the small path leading to the waters front. Alone and chilled, I search for a hint of life in the vast nothing. The swings that were once in constant motion, have frozen in time. The crippled trees stand motionless and covered in snow, waiting for life to be breathed back into them. I stop mid-walk to listen, but the only thing I can hear are the waves, and the faint whisper of a child's laugh. A slight breeze hits the back of my neck causing my skin to quiver, and I continue on my journey. The cement path abruptly replaced by rock and sand. My destination is reached as I stand on the small ledge of rocks plummeting into the lake front. The hint of wind causing tiny waves to crash into the mossy rocks as the twigs stuck among them attempt to shake free of their icicle covered tomb. They have no chance, their life has departed, and they will forever be stuck among the crashing waves.
I sit on the cold rocks, my mind going crazy with thought. Looking at those twigs, I feel home, sitting next to them, stuck in this cold, damp, place clawing to escape but have no hope of life. I feel home as I shiver, looking out into the rhythmic water. My drive for life slowly seeps out through my numbed fingers. My body begins to join the crippled trees and frozen swings as the vines creep up my back pulling me down forcing me into the wasteland. I stop resisting, it's a bitter comfort knowing I'm wanted.
Eventually the pain of death, the departure of my dignity and being will be but a memory as I sit, trapped, motionless in this wasteland. Waiting for that one day to be picked up and breathed back to life.
