The Perfect Silence

As she climbs the waves of her mind,
Full throttle, hands tense at the helm
Concentration unwavering
Hold her steady.
She claws and grasps at the anchors that ground her,
But they are coming unstuck.
She feels the turn slipping
Out of her grip.
The rains sears down on her like sharp, diamond bullets.
She is still in control.

All goes calm.
She is still in control.
She made it
Escaped the storm.
It is the perfect silence.

Her clenched hands slacken their grip,
Breath flees from her cavernous lungs.
And then it hits,
That last unsuspecting wave that isn’t going to let her out.
Her knuckles whiten,
She can’t fight it any longer.
Can’t ride out this storm.
Her mind is a whirlpool.
Of desperation.
Of helplessness.
She gives in,
As the waves of her mind crash down upon her.

She goes under.
Gasping,
Demanding air.
She thinks she is drowning.

The Perfect Storm.