The Ocean

Remembering the ocean,

tightly, I close my eyes

and vividly recollect a broken devotion

caused by a surfeit of differences—

washed up on a beach.

We were together,

yet, so far out of reach.

Remembering the ocean,

I travel back there.

Chaos ruled in those times

with uncontrollable waves and tides—

but they washed my feet bare

of the one that brought me problems

and just left them there.

All the things I couldn’t remove

with my own hand

were sunken in and camouflaged by sand.

Never getting to know the power of the ocean

because I was being drowned by land.

Remembering the ocean,

I hold this seashell to my ear

not needing painful memories, as a souvenir.

Though pretending not to care,

I kept something tangible

to show I conquered the ocean

and don’t have to go back there.

 

By Mari S.

 

 

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