
From seat 23B,
the reef is a chunk of rock
fallen off the moon, hiding in the sea.
At the beach,
the sand isn’t a burden when it’s hot
and I walk everywhere.
The pains in my body disappear
so long as I am floating.
Salt is the appetizer
of my communion with the ocean.
I bathe in her power.
She holds me, rocks me.
Somehow, everywhere,
she is our mother.
I do not forget the moon,
but here, she is more
like a welcomed visitor
than the only beacon of hope.
From the deck,
suspended between worlds,
I am simply an observer
of her admiration for the water,
how she highlights curves
of the surface
like a lover barely touching skin
for fear of disturbing the peace.
I am too often
bothered by noise and repetition.
But ambience
of the waves heals me
because I let it.
I do not miss my family.
I will return soon to our dry land.
But first, I must pay homage to the ocean,
whence we are all strengthened.
Evening from seat 31A,
the city is illuminated
like a map of neurons
or the Milky Way.
About the Creator
Sam Eliza Green
Writer, wanderer, wild at heart. Sagas, poems, novels. Stay a while. There’s a place for you here.
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