Speak Out (of turn)

[kaberett]

I dream I am an ocean filled
entirely with words, blue into black, with inky
sussurating depths. I wake instead
to deserted desert hush, a husk,
dried up, dried out, or hollowed.
Listen to the soughing sighing of the wind:
it sings, in echoes, someone else's song.
No need to excavate, not here, the ruins
plain to see: no work at all to read remains,
to catalogue and blithely categorise.
I dream I am an ocean. This is why:
Because I worry at the sure. Because
I'm bitter salt, that once was pure. Because
perhaps like rivers if I pour myself into
this empty space then I'll be made anew. Because
a glimpse of ocean is enough, some nights, 
to carry through to dawn. Because
in breaking,
            breaking,
                     breaking,

                             I'm reborn.

---

ETA 22/02/2014: I made a recording!

Comments

[kaberett]

Thank you so, so much <3

I have quite a lot of Ocean Feelings - "home" is in some sense the house my grandparents own, on the cliffs in Cornwall, where in storms you can stand on the cliff path and have salt spray hit your face. And it is a place where I am lulled to sleep by the sound of the waves. And it is also an image that is used a lot in a thing I recently finished a reread of, the idea of a person having oceans of reserve, of strength. So -- yes.