They say there are four oceans
Really there is one
Wrapped around the planet we live on
Divided up for a con
It is cool and fresh and blue
It is my shelter, my solitude
I am sinking beneath the waves
Perhaps I have been for days
But still, it seems impossible to know
What lies above or below
It was the source of oxygen, living, breathing
But beneath, intoxicating, suffocating, crashing
With the waves that push me under
Beneath towers of clouds that thunder
I watch the little bubbles dance
Trying to discern in which direction they prance
I am lost, I am lingering
I am rising, I am drifting
The water cradles me
Drowns me, carries me
The tumult of emotion swells and bursts
I float, I tumble and I contort
I am far, so far from any sight of land
An ironic pain for one who so hated sand
But it holds out to me stability
In this constant futility
Rising, falling, tumbling
Crashing, gasping
To breathe
But I don’t want to leave
This place of comfort and strength
Where I’ve sought my refuge at length
What is this place where I reside
Where is my shelter? Where do I confide?
Where is joy, pain, disgrace?
What is this place?
The ocean is my own heart
The distance that parts us
The ocean is the home
That I have known
The waves, death, and life the sea
You are my ocean, and the ocean is me
About the Creator
Lucia B.
Poet
Novelist
Linguist & Aspiring Polyglot
Bibliophile
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