My daughter sleeps to the sound of the ocean softly, gently rocked forth and afar into dreams and nightmares a soft static blanket the assonance of water
My daughter sleeps to the sound of an ocean that she has never heard a loop of imagined waves that have never wet her feet she has never run screaming and laughing from the imagined horrors of seaweed, foam Tangaroa’s arms enfolding her
As my daughter sleeps, I cry as salty as the swells she’s never seen in this landlocked room slowly falling from my cheek to land on hers a soft saline baptism
As my daughter sleeps, my thoughts fly wondering how I can fill her with the awe that something as elemental something as capricious something as beautiful can exist in this tattered world
but still, my daughter sleeps
I grew up on and in the Pacific. It's wild and elemental, and I miss it dreadfully.. now my daughter sleeps to a loop of the sound of the ocean and it struck me as ironic that she dreams to something she has experienced.