in transit

The bones in my feet exposed, gaping wounds, crooked jaw, my only choice was to grit my teeth and push ahead.
My tongue craved moisture, my lungs screamed for air.
I resolved to settle, fearing that my fading flesh would falter and my tongue would shrivel, leaving my core in a wretched twist.

So I went down to the waters.
Not the river, though, but the still pool of deep waters.