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Thirst (and Inevitability)
Dec. 10th, 2018 09:06 pmby S.A.W
She is the ocean.
She is the ocean.
This is what you know about drinking seawater:
every sip only makes you
thirstier.
You gulp it down
anyway
until your stomach is bloated
and your mouth is a desert
and still you cannot stop,
because you are
thirsty
thirsty
thirsty
and she laughs as she offers to quench your thirst
forever
if only you would slip beneath her waves for a
few minutes
(until your lungs are full of her and oxygen has deserted you).
But you do not have gills,
do not have scales or fins,
and you
know
you will not survive
if you sever that last thread of restraint,
and you pull back from the water
slowly,
regretfully,
knowing
it is not wise to
take
what she offers you.
You are too young,
too bright,
your soul shines too much
for you to wish for eternal peace just yet,
locked in her embrace for
eternity.
(The sea does not give up her belongings)
But
you have a stomach full of
ocean
and you cry tears of
salt
and your heart
beats
in time with the
waves
lapping at the
sand
and you
know:
what belongs to the sea will
always,
always
return to it.
But not today.
Today, you breathe air and walk on land.
You turn your back on the ocean
and walk away,
with a dry mouth and a swollen stomach
and sand sticking to your
feet
and the knowledge that
one
day
the
ocean
will
take
back
what
is
hers.
But not today.
