The water had turned that day
It turned her as she entered it
Drowned the thirsty flowers she held so tightly
Was it the water that killed her
White cotton dress, or was it blue
It soaked up this sinned drink
Wet her bones, hair changed from bright to brown
Carrying the weight of these unholy souls
It lapped against her already pale limbs
As the water whispered down her throat-
“Don’t you see, oh sweet girl
That your hollow cheeks, they crave this drink
Fill your lungs, come now Ophelia
Breathe in this melancholy.”
So, the sun steps back weeping still
The moon takes place unwillingly
A white reflection now engraved
In this once holy water
Do you remember, Ophelia
When the priest doused you in it
You cried out, it stung you
But now it seems you revel in this pain
Oh, Ophelia, foolish child
Your bloodshot lips now a painful memory
Close your sleeping eyes, that flutter in this light
All you are now
A glimpse of white in this pond of despondency.
-Tess Barbey
The Update 