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…
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.