Sadness is thick
but more precisely
it is dense.
I do sense danger
in the sea’s laughter,
but also fairness.
Why do I return
to the indifference
of the ocean?
It gives as much as it gets,
doesn’t boast of its
limitlessness.
You wrote a book
of questions, but what
of the ones you didn’t ask?
I have a few I can’t
even bring myself to speak,
instead writing some lines
like you, like this–
Is a sinking feeling
more acceptable in sand?
OPTIONAL POETRY 
Love it!
LikeLike
Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Those last words though! 👍🏾👍🏾
LikeLike
Thank you!
LikeLike
Beautifully written!
LikeLike
Thanks!
LikeLike
Beautiful 🙂
LikeLike
Thank you!
LikeLike
“the indifference of the ocean”—this redefined indifference for me as something comforting and possibly nurturing. I love it (though you might not have intended such an interpretation—but then, why return to it?). It also reminded me of the book I’m reading right now: Yves Bonnefoy’s “The Arrière-Pays” (Tr. Stephen Romer, Seagull Books). The sea and the ocean constantly draw one into paradox. Thank you for an excellent poem. Happy New Year and apologies for the long ramble!
LikeLike
Thank you for the long ramble! Neruda gets all the credit for that phrase– “why did i return to the indifference of the limitless ocean?” is one the questions in his book of questions that stuck with me. I can see what you mean about comforting and nurturing, I definitely feel most at peace in a natural setting– the sheer scale of it puts everything else in perspective
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah, I sadly don’t have that one. I fell in love with Neruda when I was 16 and checked everything of his out of the local library. One phrase of his really stuck with me: “Lo que no tengo es en las olas”—what I do not have is in the waves. Since those days, I have collected some of his books—my favourites are Extravagaria, I Explain A Few Things, and Residence on Earth. Such a master of words and language. Anyway, beautiful poem! Thank you so much.
LikeLike