What is deep in the ocean, that fishermen beg to find? I’d say, a clam—clams that shut so coldly and feel rough on the skin. This is me. Clams are treasures that hold themselves in high regard—they care not for their grim appearance or their smell of kelp. I have never seen a clam, but I know I’ve felt it. Like a secret bond, I feel it.
“Breathe,” says the clam. “Breathe, and do not feel or smell, but remember. For we are treasures, like the serenity of a crisp moonlit night, with the peace of an angel itself.” Clams breathe and do not mind their place in a world of predator and prey.
Whereas,
my scent and feelings,
my very breathing,
are powered by intrusive thoughts
that every human experiences once in a while.
I say, why is this?
And the clam says, “Breathe.”
I feel the sadness of an empty void,
and the clam says, “Breathe.”
I look inward
for the light my mother says I was born with,
and the clam only says, “Breathe.”
Now,
replaced by the clam’s constant demand,
was silence.
And in this silence, I realized where I was.
My heart wept in the abyss of a blackened sea.
With no other choice, I inhaled with the clam.
I rose, almost floated.
I was. It was. We were,
breathing.
I breathed to see the surface once again.
a glimpse of my treasure.
Oct 1, 2025
Oct 1, 2025 at 10:33 AM UTC
What is deep in the ocean, that fishermen beg to find? I’d say, a clam—clams that shut so coldly and feel rough on the skin. This is me. Clams are treasures that hold themselves in high regard—they care not for their grim appearance or their smell of kelp. I have never seen a clam, but I know I’ve felt it. Like a secret bond, I feel it.
“Breathe,” says the clam. “Breathe, and do not feel or smell, but remember. For we are treasures, like the serenity of a crisp moonlit night, with the peace of an angel itself.” Clams breathe and do not mind their place in a world of predator and prey.
Whereas,
my scent and feelings,
my very breathing,
are powered by intrusive thoughts
that every human experiences once in a while.
I say, why is this?
And the clam says, “Breathe.”
I feel the sadness of an empty void,
and the clam says, “Breathe.”
I look inward
for the light my mother says I was born with,
and the clam only says, “Breathe.”
Now,
replaced by the clam’s constant demand,
was silence.
And in this silence, I realized where I was.
My heart wept in the abyss of a blackened sea.
With no other choice, I inhaled with the clam.
I rose, almost floated.
I was. It was. We were,
breathing.
I breathed to see the surface once again.
a glimpse of my treasure.
Ive been feeling quite like a clam recently
