I finally let the Ocean pray through me.
I have let go of the hiding places
where I stored brittle stories I mistook for charms.
Now her tides pass through me,
and I into her.
I don’t try to measure her vastness,
or gauge her mood,
I stand at the tips of her infinite fingers,
sea foam lashes greeting my feet,
and let go.
I needed to learn who I was again,
before I could surrender on this cold night,
when I am finally no longer afraid.
She gives the first breath.
She gives our animal bodies,
that crawl and hunt, birth and feast, live and die.
Through her we are cleansed,
through her we awaken.
She, the original pulse, dancing within each of us,
here before our first ancestor,
irresistible and gentle,
our teacher of sublime danger and grace.
Ocean prays through me
because I’ve become transparent to her,
and all that surges from her arms,
that births itself from her many wombs opening in the deepest canyons of the Earth where light does not venture.
Ocean has always been praying through us,
now I yield to her.
Yes.
