Skip to main content

The Ocean


He stood there, on the rocks, contemplating the ocean. This ocean that had touched so many shores, where so many dreams were dreamt, in so many different languages. This ocean to which he felt so connected, his partner from other lives,  so familiar, yet mysterious. To him, unknown. 

He remained there, standing, staring, observing the rythmic comings and goings. He was drawn to it by its intensity, the movement of the waves. He tried to understand why. He listened attentively to its sounds.

He imagined the pleasure of being covered by its water, feeling its temperature, submerging in its depth, allowing his body to be carried by its currents. He could guess there were currents, deep currents.

Swimmers faced such currents. He had seen them. Diving from the rocks, they took the leap.  With their furious first strokes, they confronted the tides, tamed the currents. They came back exhausted, breathless and exhilarating. But he was no swimmer. He had been contemplating this ocean for quite a few years. He heard its calling. It filled his monotonous life, his dreams, his fantasies.

He took a step closer. He looked down, closed his eyes, heard its voice, crying his name, insisting. He stood there at the edge, felt the breeze, licked the salt it brought to his lips, savoured it for a moment.  He opened his eyes and felt them stung by the Sun. He drew his breath, turned around, and walked away.











Labels

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I upset people (This may be the first of a series)

I feel I upset many people. Maybe it is something I do, but the feeling I get is that what upsets them is the way I live, the choices I make. People get upset with me when they hear I don't believe in God. If I tell them that I once did, but have lost my faith after I lost my first child, a premature baby, they fail to grasp the complexity of it. They look at me with irritating condescendent pityful eyes and they think I can be "fixed." To be fair, maybe I fail to help them understand that after what happened to me, God as I came to know it and most people of Christian beliefs do, is of no use to me.  God proved himself either nonexistent or useless to me when my first born died and when I almost followed him due to Eclampsia and Hellp Syndrome (Go ahead and google it! Unless you are doctor or had someone in the family who had this, you will never know it.) He did not save my baby and he did not spare me the excruciating suffering I had to endure. And if you think I...
4 comments
Read more

Once

I once dated a werewolf            Eyes like flashlights           showing the path I once walked the path I found lost words I found lost pain I once threw my car from a bridge In the highest speed When street lights seemed like flying arrows and the water from the lake was a dark brick wall I once threw stones at the windows of the moon and sailed a boat of stardust in a lightless night I crossed the borders in disguise and spoke a million tongues I now decided to forget I once danced with a king on top of the highest tower No one ever saw the king No one, but me I once was a speck of dust I once was a grain of sand I was part of a hurricane And I landed on another land I once dreamt new dreams and wrote them on napkins I once wrote poems on spaceships and lies on  pages of ancient books no one ever read I once took a look I once took a pick I once took a bite It did not do the trick  ...
Post a Comment
Read more

The child that did not stay

I remember expecting a child that never came, a child I never held in my arms. I remember expecting a child who would have his father's hair, his kind eyes.  He would be curious of the world and I would follow closely all the things he would see with enchanted eyes. Everything would be new for his new eyes. Those were the words of a song about someone else's child, a song I used to listen to while waiting for this child. I remember dreaming of his future, of his smiles. I remember my hopes for him. He did not want me, this child. He did not stay.  He was not interested in the playground in front of the building we live. He was not interested in having my hand holding his while he walked his first steps. He did not care about the flowers, leaves, little dry sticks that fall from the trees in our neighbourhood. He did not want to listen to the slightly out of tune lullabies I was going to sing or the stories I would read at bedtime. He did not even care for the milk, all th...
1 comment
Read more