When the pack ice cracks, my boots know first.
Low swept thrumming travels from foot to belly, to heart to head.
Ominous, growling vibrations sweep the flawed diamond beneath my feet. Spectral whales moan from beneath, awakening the behemoth, denizen of the abyssal plane. I run, as frigid blasts numb lips and limbs, thump-freezing my heart in my breathless chest. Marianas deep, cetaceans are summoning Her to swallow me.
Glacial ghosts thrust up from the depths, blast thru crazed slits in the floe. They shriek with hurricane voices as they swirl and skree, swarming me. They drown my cries, storm-blind me. I’m cut off from shore, safety, surcease. I’m damned, doomed, done for.
Ice floes broach and crack, jagged massive shards erupt and stack, they thrust up as I fall back…
And down.
Freezing water feels like fire, and I sink into the netherworld. Rescue is as remote as the moon.
So begins the suboceanic struggle–again.
Paula Lyons, MD
March 4, 2025