When Sissy 
 went into the water
 I followed.
 Naturally.
 Because I,
 a younger brother,
 had an older sister
 I adored.
 Well, what else is a sibling
 water daughter for? 

 I saw her wavering figure 
 deep down ahead,
 cutting through 
 crystalline 
 mountain water
 like an arrow.
 Streaming effervescence.
 I saw her 
 touch the bottom 
 of washed sand, 
 of rounded stones 
 smoothed by years 
 of grinding, 
 with a pat of her hand.
 Box ticked.
 Camp task 
 number one
 accomplished.
 River mastered. 

 She rose then.
 A lithe silver nymph 
 spearing her way to the surface.
 And I knew I was in trouble,
 as I 
 continued down.
 Caught by the current
 like one of those 
 smooth stones,
 tumbled and bumped,
 grated and ground. 

 I had no hardened surface 
 to resist the battering,
 no thick skin 
 to soften defeat,
 no awareness 
 of up or down,
 no ability 
 to swim or float,
 not even the desire to flap about. 

 I just froze,
 one with the chilled water.
 Not desperate,
 not fearful.
 That would come later.
 I was 
 simply,
 absolutely, 
 completely,
 unable to comprehend 
 how I could find
 myself here.
 What did it mean 
 exactly? 

 Incapacitated  
 by lack of learning.
 Paralysed 
 by ignorance. 
 Alone, 
 for the very first time
 in my very short life,
 the refracted sky 
 above was still blue,
 the fluffy clouds 
 were still white,
 the trees on the bank 
 were still green.
 I, 
 however,
 remained unseen. 

 The water became 
 my atmosphere,
 thick,
 tangible.
 The known world 
 began to disappear.
 The water 
 filled my ears.
 Sound disappeared.
 The water 
 filled my nose 
 and my mouth.
 I couldn’t call out.
 The weight 
 on my chest grew heavier.
 I couldn’t breathe,
 anything, 
 but water.