She was brought up by the sea her mind was the ocean, easily upset
fierce now, calm in an hour
her hair was made of the salt
straws, shadowing her complexion
raw, like the little rocks on the coast
not yet softened by the waves.
She found her core in the sea
her spine was the breakwater
her heart the shipwreck far out
her arms the eternal to and fro
her meaning on the crest of waves
her wisdom the salted blow of cold
that whistles in brave boys’ ears
on the coast
her heart, in wooden pieces.
She found her love in the sea
she saw it in the black mirrors that
she threw away, back, away, back
she felt it in the white froth
she smashed apart, back, apart, back
she heard it in the deep waters
she wept afraid, not – afraid, not.
She grew up in the ocean
her breath the blasting of tidal waves
her joy bright colours in the shallow waters
her pain caught in the drops wind delivers
to the hardened shoulders of the coast
her feet, tangled in a lock of seaweed.
There she was
drowning, but there was home
in the lightless freeze of the ocean,
in the sinking grip of the sand,
in the everlasting tie of the algae;
there were wild whispers of the salt
there were stories sung by the whales
there were rhymes cracked by the pebbles
there were taming beats of the seagull;
there lived she her eyes locked,
lit up
like the lighthouse on the coast.
