The Sea Calls My Name, by Brandon Haut

 

I stand at its edge

While its powerful show

Comes to lap at the shore

With its ebb and its flow.

Sometimes it’s stilled;

Others unrest.

Quiet as it’s kept,

But lurking between

The in and out tide

Hides a force to be reckoned with.

And the sea calls my name

With a vigorous plow

Of violent winds

And words not shallow.

It thrashes its fists against the coast

And hisses a storm

And beckons me

Forward onto the surf-tormented shore.

“Sail on my wings,” it bellows within,

“And be free of your life of trivial things.

Come sail in the deep and breathe in the blue

For a day and a year or a century or two.

I am old, but can you not see

The likeness between you and me?

I crash and escape

While my mouth is agape,

As do you, who knows not what there is

To really see of me.”

My humble tears

Fall like rain;

Away with all

Forgotten pain.

My memories

Are far and near

Amidst a liquid

Crystal clear

That is the air

That moves the tide;

The atmosphere

I hide inside.

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