Adrift

The wailing drags my focus to the fore, where emergency blue echoes off wet stonework.
The crowd's eye cast downward, hoping, yet not, to glimpse today's flotsam.
The cold night air carries nervous chatter on frosted breath.
Circling the rails, they peered, reflected on the oily surface and reflecting on the unseen currents that brought you to the edge and then to end.

Your choice appears to thicken the viscosity of the night black tar pit water
No boatman waiting, no coinage fixed, yet I have seen the river Styx.
A lonely soul in cramped time, fought to speed the hands and sped.
Falling alone through life, falling lonelier through space, as darkness stole over the light, the hope and life.

What despair led to thoughts of flight, to override and over-side and over?
I did not know you and yet you have left a mark.
An empty life "buoy" adrift, moving almost unseen in the dark.
My witness lifts you from the page and gives me pause to wonder,
when you bob to the surface at 3 am, I sympathise and chastise and finally push you back under.