So I Drown

You survived a hostile environment, and acted the same outside of it.

A word falls from your lips,
is swept far by the tide.

They hear so little and listen less,
yet say so much that all is mess.
Thus you crawled drip-soaked from the sea,
battered, broken, peace unknown,
and found a home with those alone.

They speak so little and express less,
yet know each other nonetheless.
Your bottle of words was filled by the sea,
and now pours freely on the sand.
The grains drink in it, find it grand.

Those island folk, we speak so rarely
that when we do, it holds meaning plenty.
But it takes little to drown dry dust,
and your bottle was swelled by waves robust

My words, though rare,
can no longer find their air,
and fade before they reach my throat.