She gracefully walked into the ocean
Her dress flowing behind her
Welcoming the waves,
It seemed,
As an old friend.
She looked to the horizon-
Smiling,
As she dipped below the surface.

When she disappeared,
Some questioned whether she had drowned,
But no,
The Selkie had simply
Returned to her home
In the depths of the sea.

in soft hours when your heart’s
awake dreaming
and you feel a soft whisper
gently tracing
your skin, your spine to your soul
that’s me loving
you

love me
if you will but
that includes all the
jagged cutting  edges
of me
not easy
I know but
they have been a part of me
for so long now
I don’t know how
to be me
without them.

I used to feel them everywhere-
The spirits.
Felt their watchful eye.
Warnings from a divine animal,
A hello whispered in the breeze,
But now-
Now I feel nothing
Like a part of me is not working.
It is so quiet.
It is so lonely.
I cannot tell
Who has left who.

I used to build words
like a carpenter—
lines hammered out
plank by plank
word for word,
like bridges
spanning waters
for anyone
eager to cross.

And now
I write to meet the page
like aching skin,
like quiet water
hesitant to ripple—
careful to bear a mark.

All the words
I’ve sent off—
paper boats,
adrift.

I let them all go,
travelers,
and bridges alike,
let them sink or rise—
and let the tide
bring the words
home.

If they let me,
I will lead,
I will carry this torch,
Through the storm and flood.

For if not for poetry,
I would be one with none,
This art is a language,
We must carry on.

Does the water reflect a piece of the sky?
In the photo I took,
I see the double transformation—
sky,
water,
digitalization.

One thought wrapped in excess words
fails to reveal stillness or truth.

It exists and doesn’t—
just one path in what we interpret.

Certainty distorts facts.
Time tangles itself.

A timeline slipping unnoticed
between belief and seductive hypnosis.

What was once conviction fades into a mirage.
Unveiled words build unyielding walls.
Communication is lost
the moment before the first word
is spoken.