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April 7, 2016

Living is Poetry.

Georg Nietsch/Unsplash

I set out to write by the sea—
the ocean in her grandeur
colliding with the rocks and shore
so fully alive
in her untraceable power.

Her body was a fortress
I could not move against,
and so, I moved with her—
allowed her palpable energy
to take me.

Buoyant.
Suspended.
Embraced.

My spine arching to each wave,
surges of energy into my chest
my heart,
my breath.
I could feel her calm urgency
pulsing through me. I was

Reverent,
in awe,
humbled.

Black sand in the contours of my shape
and salted hair—the wisdom
of grandfathers in each powdered
grain of volcanic ash
exfoliating my every part,

connecting me deeper to all
that was before me
and all that is with me.
Blending masculine
and feminine—
purifying.

Intoxicating.
Sweetly simple.

Every sound, every sensation,
every resonance
from everything living
massaged into my being
and messaged my soul:

Feel something.

It was anything but a whisper.
And so I poured myself back into
the wildly mysterious ocean womb
Rolling, still, as she was.

I moved,
laughed,
wept.

And the ocean became more
concentrated in salt
and more concentrated in me—
I became the sea
and the reflection of the stars and moon,
and I remembered again

that all life is one,
that all is alive.
I set out to write by the sea,
but she wrote herself into me—
Living is poetry.

~

Author: Tiffany Anderson

Editor: Toby Israel

Image: Georg Nietsch/Unsplash

~

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Tiffany Anderson