Christa Wells

I realize I’ve been away from this writing place several weeks, and I’m tempted to feel guilty for not following my own weekly regimen.  Especially since watching Julie & Julia last night.  But then I remind myself that I am, afterall, a songwriter who does some blogging and not the other way around.  So…thanks for sticking around when you don’t have to and when nothing new is showing up for weeks…

Sea

We don’t live near the sea.
In the three years since our last visit
I’ve thought of it little,
Content with grass and pines, gardens and topsoil.

Afterall, it’s good to be home.

Now that we’ve returned, I’m humbled to know:
Neither my absence nor lack of remembrance
Affect the life of the sea.

She exists without us;
Her magnitude is not even slightly diminished.
Waves roll in
From places under the sun we’ll never lay eyes on.
Her roar continually fills our ears–
A “white noise” that surrounds us all
and depends on no electrical outlet.

She has no need of me.

But watch those children slice and kick the foam,
Squeal as she slams their shins in play and
We turn backs to the crash, try to keep upright,
Even as we laugh at the fall.

I was pleased for a while simply to feel sand sink underfoot
Stand guard at the shore and count heads.

It’s easy to stay put.

But when the time came, I grabbed board, and friend,
And we waded against the push
Leaned hard
Into the current
Got ourselves deep and
Removed.
We felt privileged,
Small and strong.
I thought we might stay out there forever.

It’s heavenly to float.

And a momentary pleasure.
The sea doesn’t ask approval
But swells and swallows according to her own purpose
And when she lifted and catapulted our bodies
We could not but submit
We could only lay down and close our eyes
As we rode galloping water steeds all the way
Back to the shallows.

Transported by the tide.

Wild wet-haired creatures rose up laughing, whooping, exhilarated–
Dripping, sand-scuffed, ecstatic.

And I realize—
It’s home to be alive.