Daufuskie I: Spring
Some, like you, are born oceanic
heartbeats like lapping waves
pulled by an undertow into the water
raised up through sand
between fingers and toes
blown out of hair and skin.
Watches do not keep time on your wrist
becoming soundless, meaningless
in the gentle breeze that whispers the first
breath of ancient seas into your face, your soul
wakes up, remembers the part of you
that was water, once
of the ocean.
Close your eyes. Lift your face
up and east into Atlantic air
blowing over and through with warm
caresses and dreams from
your other life.
Write it softly in sand.
Lay your cheek down and listen.
A hundred pipers will lead you
to footprints of kindred
welcoming back your touch.
How long you have stayed away, they say,
How much have you forgotten?
You cannot say, of course,
not in clock tickings or words.
You can only breathe gently, slowly, deeply
reach your arms skyward
taste the dampened salt
dance into the waves, a waltz or ballet.
Answer calmly, with familiar
contentment, let it seep back into your soul
out into the hushed air,
the undertow of the moon
sure of how it feels to be home.
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All text and images copyright ©19882004, by Joel Deitch & Corey-Jan Albert.