I know that I belong to the ocean

that I belong to the gray
to the ankle deep foam
to the barnacles that cut tiny feet
as they scurry, searching for tide pools
to the miles and miles of sand and stones
and plastic memories of boat parties
to the age old trees washed up like whales
as dead as whales
to the treacherous rocks
jutting out, the bones of the earth
that are islands when the moon says so
to the things that live just out of sight
to the pebbles and shells in hands and pockets
to the cold that bites in the crashing waves
the mist of watery knives, cutting at my face
the seaweed pulling me down
the riptide stealing me out to sea

to the ocean, the ocean
alive beyond the sum of it's parts