The sea, the ocean
Is itself, its own
Existence.
It is also ours.
Gorgeous, mysterious
To us as a mirror
Of what we are:
Water, danger,
Beauty, unknown.
We are the calm, and
We are the destruction.
We are the new, and
We are the primordial.
We are the turquoise blue,
Ranging to the dark depths.
We need lungs to breathe.
Our own bodies seas, oceans.
Slits like gills early on,
Swimming
In the amniotic sac.
We emerge and seek it again
Our entire lives.
The sea, the ocean.
External, and yet
Our own within.
Its repetition a lullaby.
Our bones it beats
To grains of sand.
Sunrise
Swimming through water,
Strokes seared upon
The waves, like words
Tattooed upon the page.
Rhythmic,
Persistent,
Longing to engage
Within my breath.
That sweet envelopment.
Where internal becomes
External.
Where water reaches up,
Becomes the sky.
My flaming arms.
My red, beating heart.
Karen Poppy came back to writing last year, after an almost 20 year creative silence. Her publications since then can be found on her website: https://karenpoppy.wordpress.com/publications/. She has recently written her first novel, and is at work on her second novel. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area.
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