Drawn to the tide,

It calls me ‘Sea Child’,

And bundles me in rolling water, a swaddled Ocean Babe.

My skin crusts under Its simple salt and sun kisses.


It points me to the Ocean Life, under rock ledges, in the reefs,

The waves lull me to the Spanish Dancer’s dance -

The tempo of a silent world, the melodies of which I am entranced.


And in my birth season, when the seaweed has drifted away,

and Winter Storms introduce seashells to seashores,

I sink into Its call so my Chilled Bones may numb.

Underwater, with Time, the silence warms me like a womb.


When I cry in Its embrace, saltwater steals away my tears.

It soothes each blemish, each scar that is welcomed upon my skin,

Selfless Love slicks the hair from my eyes, eternally nurturing my pain.


Its Love is blinding, swathing me tenfold in sand-coating care,

[To distract me from Its own hurt, to hide Time’s (man kind's) wear and tear.]  Yet –


I can feel as the Life below stops dancing, can hear the final notes of Its waning melody.

My Ocean Home listing away beneath my naïve gaze, disappearing into Unforgiving History.


Finally, It calls to me in desperation; I listen like Bleached Coral, as It tells me, so solemn:


“You must See Child, my Sea Child, that my waters are warming,

And soon this Ocean Body can no longer be Home.”