I long to lie upon the ocean floor,

to lay my fear of death to rest.

Let the water heal my wounds

as the air never could.

Down here, the cell falls silent—

no more cactus on my thickened skin.

I will not return to the wars I’ve lived,

nor count my days in hell again.

I’ll grow inside a submarine

ringed with coral,

and if a shark approaches,

I will not leave.

I will not carry my memories on my back,

no more burdens atop the burden of life.

In the sea, exhaustion cannot undo me;

it will be a home where I prepare myself

to be among the stars—not a martyr.

Strange how my homeland

looked like a trap,

a trap for dreams.

Could it ever be

anything else?