I once leaped
from one rock to another
afraid
to get my feet wet
I once exchanged
the southern reflection
of the moon
for the northern
only to find
its shine remained the same
still
my feet got wet
I traded my tongue
light and loose
for a thicker
denser one
pulled at teeth
to make room
that words would never fail me
and still my feet got wet
I have chased
feathers
of tropical birds
of bald eagles
and northern cardinals
clung to their tails
only to learn
all birds fly south
for the winter
I dance on quicksand
I dance on glass
I dance on coals
all so my feet stay dry
but these currents beckon
if I look down
from stolen flight
as my feet get wet
and I can’t help but wonder
am I the ocean’s?
these rocks are too sharp
and the birds fly too high
and the moon
she mocks from every side
am I the ocean’s?
an endless horizon
blurs and expands
a mother’s womb
gently rocking in the twilight
murmurs soothing lullabies
won’t spit me out
chewed up and wasted
like this promised land
this white sand
where my feet stand
so dark
so dry
am I the ocean’s?
fingerprints
to her ripples
sun glints Golden
off our surface
a Fibonacci match?
foaming at the white shore
like I foam
salty
through broken teeth
through heavy tongue
swollen
my thoughts and speech
forever italicized
Para ellos
For them
Pour eux
Voor hen
am I the ocean’s?
Here we speak without sound.
Here we roll without ground.
Here we grow without roots.
Here we float then we sink.
Here we dream without stars.
Here our hope needs no feathers.
am I the ocean’s?
am I the ocean’s?
am I the ocean’s?
Someday she’ll return
to claim us all.
(Originally posted on Medium.)