It's the pressure missed most
The closeness of
sonar echoes making their way
through filtered light
and blue

Sounds washed
first
by currents, by the tides
dampened
sweeter for that

Out of depths
too harsh and I do not care
to see the world I wished myself in
so very
very clearly

I stand at the shore and the water
will lick at my feet, and I will dive under
and briefly I will be as I was
I will let myself drift
briefly

Breath is not forgiving
is it any wonder that when I am spat back out
I choke?
Sand grates pink flesh
and I gasp

This place is too light
The air does not hold me together
like the water always did
like the water held me
before