Ophelia

Based on the death of Ophelia, from Shakespeare's "Hamlet".

"Too much water hast thou, poor Ophelia, and therefore I forbid my tears." ~ Laertes, Act 4, Sc.7; Shakespeare's Hamlet.

I am but a maiden of the water
Floating, undisturbed among the flow
I summon the sounds of birds
Singing throughout the day

I feel the cold, and the wet
But most of all, I feel nothing
I feel numbness and apathy
But of the good kind, the at-peace kind

I slowly, steadily float
It is close to flying-- I control nothing
My movements and slow swaying dictated
For me, by the whim of the water

I breathe in deeply
Inhaling the scent of cold
Cold air fills my lungs
Cold water dances under my body

There is no way to describe
The sense of freedom, of wholesomeness
When oneself is controlled by that of the outside
To lay there; relaxed. Unquestioned. Not needing to be in control.

I can smell the heady perfume of flowers
Caressing my nostrils, calming me further
The warmth of the sun on my body and face;
Combating, yet accentuating the icy water

My garments are beginning to feel heavy
Like lead weights are pulling me down
My hair floats serenly, lighter than air
I put myself into that hair, to regain my sense

Of weightlessness.

I open my eyes, stare up into the sky
Clouds, drifting lazily against the blue
I used to be jealous of the those clouds;
Free, and without purpose

But not anymore, for now I am just as free
Freer, even, not confined to the wayward air
But instead to the steady calm of water
Water that is entirely independent, unlike me

The gentle bobbing of the water
The soft up-and-down or side-to-side motions
So much like those of my mother, long ago
As she sang cradle songs to me when a babe

A bird flies by, overhead
Fly free, little bird, enjoy your wings
My wings rest in the water
This water gives me the freedom of your kind

I close my eyes again, once more to focus
On the gentle rise and fall of the water
On the buzzing of insects
Droning from the flowers on the breeze

O, how lucky I am
I have always had the loneliest of lives
I had always longed to blossom
And now, at last I have

The water hath become heavy now
I feel more of water than air
The pressure on my chest is beginning to constrict it
I welcome it, for it is the weight of water

And not of trouble, or madness, or strife.

I am but a maiden of the water
And so, I release my final breath of foul air
As I sink--nay, float--slowly down,
A smile covers my face.

Too much water have I.

Too much blessed, sweet water.

Author's Note

A rather long poem, I believe. This took me about 40 minutes. NB: The narrator of the poem is not Ophelia, but based on her. The thumbnail image was taken from the painting "Ophelia" by John Everett Millais.

Reviews

[MOON]

This is truly a lovely read , soothing.

[MoriartyMesa]

Randomly came across this and totally loved it.

[Amber "Victoriomantic" Hart]

Thank you! :)

[Rhea]

I quite fancied this.

[Coyote Poetry]

I read the poem again. It is so beautiful. The description of nature and the contentment to be one with water and Earth was wonderful. I like the ending. The world of the Myth is much kinder then the real world.
Coyote

[Ellen Hammond]

This is a captivating write. The entire poem held my attention through three readings. It has a peaceful, almost whimsical quality to it as the narrator welcomes the release of death by drowning. A truly enjoyable read!

[Coyote Poetry]

Poem is not long. It is beautiful and well written. Your description and story held me to the last word. I like the complete poem. A pleasure to be able to read a outstanding writer.
Coyote