I am on
the cusp of the wave, the tip of the tide,
just before it rolls over to touch
Throw the tiniest grain of sand in anywhere,
it will ripple
to every corner of the sea
captured inside of me.
The Molecules of my
body are spread across
the surface of the seven oceans,
a semi-permeable membrane,
glistening iridescent as oil.
I am as sensitive
to every imperceptible change in the weather,
as the weather is changed by
You are researching into the soul of me.
You are writing out in papers
what the tides in my body have been singing out to me for years.
wide turbulence created by imbalance
in the world axis powers.
wave that amplifies from ocean to seaway,
to river to stream,
trickles down from rain to mist
Will the cusp of the wave
ever touch the triple shore of what you are learning?
find a way to turn back the moon,
or discover that the water is deeper, denser,
I have learned many new ways of treading water,
trying to stay afloat.
Keep swimming in this direction,
fashion a raft
or at least send me some stars to navigate by.
I am waiting
in the sea
and the sea is waiting inside me.
- Holly W. Graves, 2002
on back for more poems.
To share your poem, send email to stories -AT- FWHC.org