Have You Ever Wanted to Touch the Sea?

Have you ever wanted to touch the sea?
With so much washing upon the waves, I feel like I’d be clean.
Momentary freedom of impure and insecurity
Livened by the salt licks against wounds of a thousand memories—
These injuries will eventually erode.
They’ll fly along with all my fears in the direction that the winds blow.
With the way the heart trusts every time our eyes close.

Have you ever wanted to touch the sea?
I’ve a feeling that these fingers would delve into soul.
Storm ocean, so crashing, roars of depths black as coal, but
Truly hides a world that we’d all love to know.
Yet we’ll linger on the shore.
Bikini bottom, shades on nose, skin kissed by that day-glow.
Rather sun-burn than Submerge
Head, shoulders, knees and torso.

Have you ever wanted to touch the sea?
Keeper of colour and life, and seemingly infinite memory—
Corals, and catfish, and strange underwater discoveries—
Womb of the earth, I’ll repeatedly return to you
As you birth marine anomalies.

Haven’t you ever wanted to touch the sea?
Surf along that sparkling surface and find yourself slipping into fantasy.
I saw dolphins. Once. Twice, now, I believe.
And my first thought was, “God, how must they perceive
The vast and unending blue-current-green”?
I’ve waded through waves calm for the friendship,
And dived into the tossing of passionate fling
And I regret nothing.

No matter the season,
with or without reason, I will stride forth and
I will touch the sea