and sometimes we wake
face down amongst the debris
of the tide line, sea grass entangled
sun pulling salt skin taut across our bones.
there is no knowing our name
or how it is we came here
but there is a thirst in us
and across the mudflats,
beyond the driftwood and bodies of creatures
forgotten by the ocean when the estuary mouth
was breached, is water.
and there is nothing to be done
but to drag yourself to that water
fall to your knees in the shallows
and let it teach you how to pray
to live adrift
a creature of the dark pools
and golden sand
creature of the soft pulling tides
and slow moon rising –
lulling you to sleep
until you dream and you remember
the course of the ocean in your veins
the rush and plummet of the waves
pulling aqua before obliterating
every part of you that
thought you were not the ocean.

and you know you have died
on those mudflats before
and you know you will die there again
just to be ocean once more
salt in your blood, hum of whales in your bones
and breath enough to live by.

and everything in you turns towards that ocean
feeling for the tide that will breach the river mouth.


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3 thoughts on “estuary

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