I want the kind of peace
that doesn't take me back to the island
but instead allow me to look at the ocean
that is gazing at the sky with adoration and respect.

Still, not far away, I see fear sitting in a rock, waiting for me.
Its eyes say there are still things left to burn—
last night it was as if some kind of monster
ordered me to set my house on fire
so it would not expose how many times I mourned
not for a person
but for the time wasted acquainting them
with the sea I carry within.
I was afraid burning the whole thing
would left me empty again,
so I stopped admiring the flames.

Now a wave sprouts where I am
and does not tremble when it presses its body to mine,
like a lover unafraid—I want the kind of peace that does the same way.
The kind that swims
and truly
sets
me
free.