Told the sea I’d sail today
Toward a dream along its horizon
Dragged myself along the sand
Holding on to what I could
On the water I drift toward that line
Taking inventory of what I have
Some crumbs of home,
A bottle of memories
And a photo of what it was.
I cannot look, but I feel these items
Remembering them with touch.
When the storms reach and begin to rock
My fickle boat, I reach over the side
Down into the water, sprinkle it over
My head, my body, until I am soaked
Through my clothes. And it reaches my bones
Deep into the atoms that make me,
The cold creeping into what I am.
The line in the distance wavers
In a setting sun, blurring into the dark
And with trembling fingers I reach out
And aim down my arm like a sniper
Towards that dream of mine. Salt on my tongue
The taste unwavering, the taste in each pore
Each crevice and wound of who I am.
I told the sea I’d try again
She sighs and swallows me whole
And I sleep, it is no longer so cold.
Dina Klarisse 