I woke with a want
for the ocean
gray and desolate,
with winter surf
veiled
under soft,
steady rain.
A desert
won’t be
the same,
too still and open–
the ocean
closes in,
relentlessly.
But the stars,
you say,
they’ll be amazing–
Yes, if only
I wanted clarity,
but the act
of waking
was enough.
Now I want
to be muffled,
I want to be
hidden,
to watch
the squall lines
build
and then
swallow up
the shore.
OPTIONAL POETRY 
Haunting and vivid images. Thanks for sharing.
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Thank you for reading!
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want for the ocean
but the stars…nice contrast…
i can relate to the wanting of the wintery ocean…to be
swallowed wholly hidden…
enjoyed.
cheers and ooo la la~
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How to describe my reaction to your poem: it washes against me softly and then it recedes carrying the weight of some of my clarity. You’ve voiced something that I’ve felt. Clarity has its burdens, and sometimes not being seen is liberating. The paradox of the introvert, I’d say.
Glad I read this. Thank you.
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Glad that this resonated with you… the paradox of the introvert, indeed. Thanks for stopping by!
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