Poem, Ocean Blue September 28 2021
(this was an assignment for class. not the usual poems I write)
Ocean blue
coarse
faded
big enough that it takes two hands
it feels light.
The dark presses in from the light overhead
molding a container creaking from the weight of holding time
I can imagine the sound of crashing waves
sea birds
wind whistling
stomach sinking
as the powerful ship smashes through the churning waves, arms braced, shivering with sea spray.
The smell and taste of salt water and smoke, the creaking of containers
blocking the sun
staring out
where the water meets the sky
Centuries of oceans and ships and wind-weathered hands
the struggle and storm
would this be the last journey?
I close my eyes
and see my history
on the dusty streets,
the sea storms,
the warriors wreathed in spirit and fire,
hands gripping the wheel with determination,
the pencil marking the test,
the stories,
the urge to be
free.
The weight of that makes it heavy.