295. October 22nd
Wavy black hair matted with sea-weed,
The salty water swims into his lungs.
Fighting for breath; shaken by throes of coughing,
The pressure of water squeezes out all air.
Tossed against the rocks like a pebble,
Cracking his skull as if it were a shell.
His oxygen-starved blood stains the water,
A corpse beaten by this ocean.
Through his mouth is closed and heart still,
His eyes remain open in terror.
Searching still for a saving miracle,
Yet he is beyond the help of this earth.