Buoyant
I can never give all ofmyself to my childrenbecause I reserve some ofmyself for her: the ocean.I think that’s howshe looks out for me.Mothers know how to helpother mothers best.
-devon demint-
Island Song
Catch any fish? Catch any waves?These are questions you get whenyou’re away. Gone is where youneed to be sometimes, she knows.Go to an island, don’t become one.The land is where grey sometimes feelslike a place. Here-the boat skipsover trouble like a stone. Here-briny mist gathers in the cliffs atdusk and sunlight reflects off thewindshields of fishing boats at dawn.Let the light pass through me, she says.Fish me out of that deep water.Tie a sailor’s knot around my wounds.She lets the waves hold her questions:How do I go back home? Up above, thewind sings, you’ve been here all along.
– devon demint
Out of Water
She rides all the waves,not just the good ones.She rides the ripplesnobody wants.She rides the set wavesshe deserves.Not to prove anything—just to feel.Grace is so elusive.The force of life under foot.
–devon demint-
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This is part of the cluster Our Mermaid Craze. Read the other posts here.
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Devon DeMint