There are two places that sing to me.

Together they are wildly inharmonious.

Here

is where I am from,
a place of rich mothering greens.
These hills cradle life.
Here the earth is all gentle curves.
It’s a sleepy place
that smells brown and green and sounds
like rustling leaves.

There,
waves thrash aggressively against the sand.
They curl competitively over each other,
racing to shore,
incessantly.
They make me want to throw up my arms and dance,
barefoot, kicking up sand,
to shout, as
the dazzling blue darkens
instantaneously.
Dangerously seductive, it is a perilous
beauty.

Together, they make careening pastures
of a sick bluish-green
swim dizzily before my eyes.
I feel vertigo as my home is submerged in
salty waves.

I am salt water on my own wound.
One minute I am the rugged ocean, the next
serene pastures,
thrash within me,
till I make as much sense as
swimming meadows and
grassy seas.