DAILY The Sea, in sonorous mantras of surf
Repeating its curl and heave, curl and heave
Slushes gold along tide lines,
Strafed in sand dollars.
Flatulent smells of warm seaweed,
Wet, then dry, and wet again,
Surprise the nose as winds shift,
Strands drag silky against skin,
Sensuous and creepy,
Octopus legs wrapping ankles.
Botticelli’s Venus stood thus
Waiting on wind and tide to give birth.
Her placenta holding the sea
We seek again in this parched time,
Doing time, wanting to be born anew.
A wave’s jade curtain rises, washes over,
Foam rises around thighs and belly
As the sea calls me hers again.
I saw this poem in motion, as I watched the poet emerge from la mer — cold, wet, bedraggled yet glorious with aliveness as she reunited with her true love, the sea! Congratulations on reuniting with your true self, I acknowledge your courage and spirit in braving the 60 degree surf! Welcome back, sea maiden…^..^