The Ocean Poets
This #LockdownSeries feature requires no introduction - just a disclaimer:
What you’re about to read will make you miss the water.
And so, without any explanation or faff, we present to you:
The Ocean Poets…
Submersion
I feel you on my toes.
Creeping slowly upwards.
I feel you on my knees.
Hairs standing to attention.
I feel you give me goosebumps.
All over my skin.
I feel you give me peace.
From a modern time warp.
I feel you on my middle.
Cradling my curves.
I feel you on my chest.
Breathing sharpened.
I feel you on my neck.
Closing on my throat.
I feel you.
You make me whole.
You bring me calm.
Focus and intent.
- Sarah Finn
she can
call upon marine life, in an hour of need
conjure currents in still waters
and calm swells in stormy seas
dive below
float at the surface
glide over reefs or drift to wrecked ships
sing a note to lure sailors
or guide a safe passage
hear whispers in the wind
to deliver lost messages in empty bottles
a seabird’s search
soaring above cotton charged clouds,
the sea bird navigates over
mountains, fields, and forests.
a search for that cliffside, the home nest
clinging to the edge. too long has this
soul been lost in foreign lands.
- Abigail Leach
I’m here (This must be the place)
I can hear it from here…
The seagulls cry, a repetitive note, foretelling an unsettled bay.
A distant rumble, always growing in momentum, from swells far, far away.
The drag of the tide as it cloaks the sands, sounds of hissing underfoot as it drains.
Permission is granted to surrender your thoughts, let the sea cast them away.
I can see it from here…
The surging wind, grooming the surface of an approaching wave.
An out-cry beckons, from the deep voice of the water.
Dedicating ourselves to the ocean, we are granted a moment to take up space.
We wade out and submerge ourselves, admitting ourselves to the sea.
I can smell it from here…
The golden gorse stands bold and proud, sending scents of the tropics astray.
A briny taste filling the air, dusting across you as you lay.
The sticky sweetness of redundant iced treats, a reminder of years long past.
A nostalgia as warm as this still, hazy day, a time we hope would last.
I can feel it from here…
The anticipation works free, as we begin to let go.
Our worries unfasten, washing away, joining the rhythm of the tide.
Grounding as we root to the sand, the coarse grain beds us down to meet the sea.
Tension releases as the cold usher in the calm. Let the sea cast them away.
