saltline

daughters of the tide

photo via pinterest

fallen stars that glisten
on the peaks and valleys
of salt that splashes
the edges of my mind

the glassy sheet of rage and love
kisses the skyline
and runs through my veins

the ocean made me a poet

to share her glory
through the words that spill from my lungs

ruled by the moon,
fed by the sun
the separation between us
stays only in spirit

earth’s sacred reminder
that we are all of one

the depths and myths below
hold beauty and danger,
memories of every woman it’s ever held

our ghosts are etched in the coral;
matriarchs who braid the currents into their hair
and daughters who hum a secret frequency
shared only in the tide

i am not just a witness to the wreckage
i am the vessel and the flood,
the anchor through the drift,
the velvet bioluminescence
that dances in the dark

i swallow the horizon
until my throat is raw from the brine—
for every pearl found in the wake,
something is lost to the sand

my heart beats
against the crashing of the surf,
an ancient percussion
older than the first words of man

forged by its pulse
i inhale straight from the source
until the salt in my blood
finds its way back home

singing the language of low tide,
scrawling love letters on the shoreline
before the foam licks the page clean
and asks me to begin again

so let the flow take,
and let the ebbs rise high
pulling the stars from the blue
and exhaling back into the hungry, waiting world