The Mediterranean

July 14, 2009
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from a thousand miles away
the tide is pushed
towards the beach
and it crashes and whips and foams
at the mouth, screeching no, no, no

but that is just the way it goes
it is written in the sky,
pressed up against it, stars like twinkling nightlights
they are there so we can read
so we can understand what we couldn’t
during the bright white day

the tide always pulls away,
calms down,
regains her composure before again resisting
the push that will inevitably come,
that has survived through fire and earthquakes and war and thousands of naked squirming kicking feet

i feel compassion for the tide
it reminds me of myself
i am eternally pushed towards your wide open
sandy stretch of arms
and you wear my resistance down, it erodes
in minutes, seconds
i do not screech, i do not weep
i just worry
about the condition of my heart
when i keep crashing into you
like it is what i am supposed to do
like it is written in the creases of the night sky

and when i come across this thought
like a pebble caught in my shoe
i pull away, smoothly, calmly
moving backwards against rising swelling waves
of love.

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