It's OK, the sea is here.
Yes I know she raised the cup skywards
In a menacing toast
Of the blood that will undoubtedly be spilled.
I know she had claws
On the ends of her probing fingers
Sheathed in shiny blue.
I know the cotton was not soft
That white does not mean innocence
That even seasoned She would be surprised
But it's OK, the sea is here.
I know that when the sun rises in the morning
It rises not with you, not before you
But after you.
I know you are awoken
By lacy pillows and fishnets and flying horses
And tendrils spilling from the wall.
But it's OK, the sea is here.
I know you watch the children playing at its edge
Not with the vigilance of a mother
Not with the wistfulness of a virile maiden
Not with an air of kindred playfulness
But with a dank knowledge of what life can be
A deep sadness, a nostalgia for something never had
Or had too much.
I know you long to sit on windowsills
Bathed in blue shadow, and watch
The man across the garden
Who always turns his light on
At exactly
10.33.
I know you watch the ship drawing closer to the horizon
And think of your driftwood wand.
I know how you long to wade into the waves
Bury your feet in mounds of beach stones
And stand there for all eternity.
I know you know you won't.
You know you'll stand up,
Turn your back to the wind for the moment
And head east.
I know you'll feel its pull
Especially on the full moon
And sometimes you'll come, but mostly you won't.
But in those moments when it catches you
Unawares
In the kitchen, a scent
In the bedroom, a noise
In the living room, a movement
In those moments, remind yourself
That it's OK, the sea is here.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
It's OK, the sea is here.
Yes I know she raised the cup skywards
In a menacing toast
Of the blood that will undoubtedly be spilled.
I know she had claws
On the ends of her probing fingers
Sheathed in shiny blue.
I know the cotton was not soft
That white does not mean innocence
That even seasoned She would be surprised
But it's OK, the sea is here.
I know that when the sun rises in the morning
It rises not with you, not before you
But after you.
I know you are awoken
By lacy pillows and fishnets and flying horses
And tendrils spilling from the wall.
But it's OK, the sea is here.
I know you watch the children playing at its edge
Not with the vigilance of a mother
Not with the wistfulness of a virile maiden
Not with an air of kindred playfulness
But with a dank knowledge of what life can be
A deep sadness, a nostalgia for something never had
Or had too much.
I know you long to sit on windowsills
Bathed in blue shadow, and watch
The man across the garden
Who always turns his light on
At exactly
10.33.
I know you watch the ship drawing closer to the horizon
And think of your driftwood wand.
I know how you long to wade into the waves
Bury your feet in mounds of beach stones
And stand there for all eternity.
I know you know you won't.
You know you'll stand up,
Turn your back to the wind for the moment
And head east.
I know you'll feel its pull
Especially on the full moon
And sometimes you'll come, but mostly you won't.
But in those moments when it catches you
Unawares
In the kitchen, a scent
In the bedroom, a noise
In the living room, a movement
In those moments, remind yourself
That it's OK, the sea is here.
