Joy Surfs the Ocean
Dedicated to one I respect, enjoy, fear for and pray for as he faces violence each day in a part of Africa that was once his peaceful, nature adorned idyllic home. I wish him to run, he won't. God Keep Ye, Jannie Breedt
Ocean-born wave rhythms rock their roll
just as motions my own soul does extol
since first we seascaped soul to soul.
From your African, violent, dust bowl
straight to my United States’ role,
joy surfs the tides making us whole.
Your expanse is constant inside my coral mind
as though our ebb and flow were cast entwined.
An ocean sees our coastlines combined.
Though our shared depths are confined,
our seawaters’ yang is surely aligned.
I sail my authentic towards your motion’s drift,
feel its sincere floatage dip down and high-lift.
Never do I rue an anchor of sea-worn shrift
turning shallow the depth of my sailed gift.
Our vibration rides the same sea of mapped calm.
You soothe my torrid zones as a salt-healing balm
might whip storms into the tranquility of a psalm.
Your grace and kindness of steady waves
fill my otherwise deep-sunken sea graves.
Bright life vests secure notes you sincerely toss afloat.
Our waters churn beyond human means of control -
they plunge and sweep as independently designed,
leaving us with merely sand’s feel to finger sift.
Yet my endless depths harbor no sinking qualm
for my intangible drownings, your tangible saves.
I am a better me with each beached, ocean note.
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