Watery Reflections

So ethereal, the way the water pools into my cupped hands; its velvety caress and the cacophony of unpatterned rhythm lure me in to a tantric state. The being becomes what it surrounds itself with, the enlightenment comes from acceptance and awareness of this magical world around us. I am on a higher plane and outer space can be so refreshing.

Advertisements

Intertidal Pools of Sun

Barefoot amidst the movement of lapping, cold waves—a gentle soul walks onward into the ocean. Mangrove branches loop out from the water and marine alluvium soils. Tiny fish grow within the intertidal zone, protected by the plants and disrupted by her calm feet digging into the sand. Hair wild amidst the cool sun rays softly kissing each eye into a deeper caramel hue. The water against her strong ankles as low pools fill and recede into the Earth. Gusts pick up cooling a body flowing in tandem with the ocean waves as the heart connects to the soul of the ocean.

I Needed the Light

Asteroids are falling into my atmosphere, their burning traces, crystal prisms.

They dig deep into my chest, opening spaces where perhaps leaves will grow after we sow this burned soil.

Flutters of color like butterfly wings whispering pieces of song that sirens can nice upon a time would sing.

Maybe these leaves will be blown to the water when the gusts pick up as none of this matters.

Wishing for Rain

I don’t take drastic measures, they must seem that way. I only take measures to reach what I hope to achieve. Last year I learned when I should cut back the ill growth of this fragrant rose bush that I am trying to cultivate. I have already learned this year when to let go of leaves that are meant to fall. For the greater good, I make choices because there is no point in holding on to thinly dangling foliage. I have also been in the process of learning how to fertilize and in learning when it is necessary to cut back excessive growth–My roots dig in deeper into this rich soil. It is all love in this horizon; it’s just that love sometimes might hurt a little in some places. I hope I have the willpower to heed the words of the wise and the courage to stand alone as I cultivate this Golden Celebration.

Cracks within Our Walls

We build homes in places that we know will not last and then become shocked at the notion that the water will rise in and bloat everything within its walls. We build, knowing that the soil is easily prone to erosion, but we still believe that it will outlast any natural disaster. Yet, our homes come tumbling down as we struggle to hold it together with temporary fixes.

Still, we continue to build all the while ignoring the warnings nature throws at our faces as it tells us that the structure will not hold. We work diligently and keep insurance because somewhere within us we know the tragedy that will inevitably strike. Foolishly, we forget that insurance is never a solution to a problem that will cost more to us than the claim is valued for. We will eventually lose that house that we desperately wanted to raise. Maybe then we will realize that the cost of building on inhabitable land was too high for our optimistic minds.

Sunken Benches

I sit next to the ocean that is reclaiming the land and the rain starts to sweep in between the mangroves and dead fish. Soaked pages take in the tears of the sky as if they’ve been parched for quite some time. The ocean and sky have reclaimed their original place on land and floating aimlessly– a red jacket. The dyed red leather is engorged with salt-water while crabs laugh at that foolish girl in tatters.