Write a limerick with antechamber
Came the dare from a girl I adore
It is sloppy at best
And a quite sober jest
But at least it can't be any lamer

When we first met, I savored each word from your lips.
I counted our moments together, our moments apart,
Each one filled with wonder.
I feared that it could not last,
that it was fleeting, ephemeral.
We talked for hours, and I feel further into your siren spell.
I longed to see you, hold you, hear you
I could scarcely breathe without you in my thoughts,
without you in my breath.

Now, it is no longer so.
Our moments together are still full of wonder
You are as transcendent and resplendent as in our youth
You are no less, nor I (I hope)
But I no longer fear that what we have
will melt in moments, like snowflakes on your cheeks, on my hands.
And so I have changed.

Before, I was but a wildebeest, coming down to the waters,
sipping in small measures.
Each sip was sweet, new, delightful, wonderful.
Now, I bathe in the waters, wash in the waters, eat and drink in the waters.
I live in the waters.
I am buoyed by its strength, and guided by its current.
I no longer recall the nomadic life, the thirst, and the quenching of it.
I have forgotten what it is to be dry, to bear my full weight.
I am no longer a creature of the grass,
who comes to the waters for rejoicing, for pleasure, for healing.
I am a hippo, surrounded by comfort, beauty, buoyancy
Surrounded by life and love.

I oft forget the beauty and majesty
of where I once visited,
of where I now live,

I strolled the coast
Sun soaked my shoulders
Warmth spread up through my feet
from the sun baked sand, that
I felt, more than heard, as a subtle susurration of
    sand that shifted under my soles
    surged between my toes
A wave wandered out of the ocean
kissed my feet with briny tears
caressed and stole the silt from beneath my soles
subtly shifted my standing
sailed gently back to sea
My tensions eased with its withdrawal

A gentle bracing breeze arose
condensed to prickles on my arms
Awoke hairs to stand alert
Pungent ocean air and spray stung yet soothed
    my parched lips
shocked my nose with that smell
    of calm after a storm
I was a part of this entire panoply
I was part of this expanse
I was part of this
I was part of now

I glanced back toward where I must return

A titanic wave crashed against my back
blasted me to the sand
buffeted me cruelly
smote away my breath
ground grit into my palms
forced flashbacks that
sand is coarse and abrasive
    as well as tranquil and warm
I struggled and was beaten down
    and beaten down

Eventually
achingly
haltingly
I pulled up and gasped for air
sputtered crude and briny water
brushed the sand from my face
saw the sanguine cuts and scrapes
then heard their clamorous lament
that crested as wave upon wave buried me
and mockingly failed to wash away
    any part of my hurt

Blood or perhaps brine wept down my cheeks
and I had already been bleeding
from old wounds and cuts and bruises
unhealed and untended
and those barely healed ripped asunder
These shouts of agony drowned out any new tenderness

Will I always be bleeding?
Will I ever heal?
Will I ever feel safe again?
Will I ever even get all the sand from my hair?
At any rate, I must shortly keep walking on.

To be as still as flowers in a vase –

Ones captured on a canvas bare and white,
Sprung forth by a Renoir’s or O'keefe's delight,
Delighting me when I see face to face
The painted hues and light imagined first
In frenzy, and slowly then crafted,
Created through practice, then mastered
Through weeks and years, repeated and rehearsed –

Oft comes, it’s said, from quiet in a life.
My serene certainty comes while racing
Through the woods of life, with stumbled pacing,
Crying as branches lash across one eye.

My stillness springs forth, with largesse,
With joy and sorrow, from distress.