why, dear ocean, do you come dressed in flames
when all i want is cold ash in your stare?
i come from a cluttered garden,
wearing the tattered garments of my uprooted heart,
i come to seek your icy comfort...and
because you call me to you....
but instead you present me with this funeral afire,
with this burning death, this implied cremation,
and i find my memories cast ashore,
strewn about and rearranged by crabs,
under the envious eyes of seagulls.
mother ocean, you come because it is your destiny,
to caress the sand, to comb the hair of this shore,
and to rise in fury, to strike blindly with your fists
the seawalls that would deny you entry upon this land,
this land that defies your yearning for what you have yielded.
still i come to seek your calming anger,
your rage that strikes like a hammer upon the anvil
weighing down my heart,
my anchor in your shallows
tethering me to your tides
rising
falling into this season of fluttering.
i am come to your edge,
this shore is the outline of your destiny
and each solitary wave is a beat of my heart,
all those waves wash ashore
shaping this sorrow
making hollow the holograph of dreams
laden with wispy smoke.
and always you reach for me,
i come to you
bleeding,
i return to you this blood
these tears,
my essential salt,
this elegant sadness.
and your waves flounder upon the sand, each one
a tear dropped in your outstretched palm
calm and complete
glistening in the sun
receding into your embrace once again,
and i stand at the edge of my world
beside your transitory figure
cloaked in the wind
on fire with inaccurate sunshine
killing me by degrees.
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