Water rushes downhill streets falling over each other covering water with water in spins of flow

Nothing to hold onto, only knee deep, feet cold no grip, danger is future but clear, no one can live standing in the flood, there is no place to rest

And with added pressure, detritus, flotsam, life itself, we slip, fall on our butts, get cold and wet and flood water, dense and muddy, splashes our face

And we scramble to our feet, the force of water seems stronger than when we stood erect and our hands plunge into the water to help us get back up

We stand again, now weaker, now colder, the rushing flood back to our knees but now the flood seems malevolent all by itself, an entity with it’s own will, a cruel will

And we trudge, weakened by the fear of falling, the fear stronger than our actual after effects of the recent fall

There is no land, no land visible at least, but onward we trudge, clasping our arms around our bodies for warmth, glaring at the rushing water, losing feeling in our feet and legs, and on we trudge

Knowing there IS an end, we simply don’t know if we can walk that far.

Image by jetalone via Flickr