Sacred Sea

From Morocco in North Africa where

the Atlas mountains gave the Atlantic

Ocean its name, to my two feet buried

in Jersey shore sand—what is not sacred?

The ocean holds more in its big belly

than we can know: skeletons of people,

cargo of slave trade and its dark secrets,

ship bones and treasures, plastic waste and more.

And of those who live in the sea, minnows

and shells, death and life in sharks at beaches,

pregnant Orca in pods, coral and plants

and innumerable species of fish.

Here at the Jersey shore I see myself

younger and swimming with dolphins, ready

to run from tasks God planned for me, ready

like Jonah, to be swallowed by a whale.

The sacred ocean would spit me out, dead

or alive, and send me on my journey.

I wish it would speak, wave after wave, tell

me where I am going in wet whispers.

Ocean is everything I know just now.

We share unvoiced history. We touch God

in each other, Remember what we share,

blue, green, brown, burnt, pale patterned—life on earth.

Posted at earthweal's weekly challenge: SACRED LANDSCAPES

My blog poems are rough drafts.
   Please respect my copyright. 
 If you quote, credit this page.
     © 2020 Susan L. Chast