Daufuskie I: Spring
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Some, like you, are born oceanic heartbeats like lapping waves pulled by an undertow into the water raised up through sand between fingers and toes blown out of hair and skin. Watches do not keep time on your wrist becoming soundless, meaningless in the gentle breeze that whispers the first breath of ancient seas into your face, your soul wakes up, remembers the part of you that was water, once of the ocean. Close your eyes. Lift your face up and east into Atlantic air blowing over and through with warm caresses and dreams from your other life. Write it softly in sand. Lay your cheek down and listen. A hundred pipers will lead you to footprints of kindred welcoming back your touch. How long you have stayed away, they say, How much have you forgotten? You cannot say, of course, not in clock tickings or words. You can only breathe gently, slowly, deeply reach your arms skyward taste the dampened salt dance into the waves, a waltz or ballet. Answer calmly, with familiar contentment, let it seep back into your soul out into the hushed air, the undertow of the moon sure of how it feels to be home. |
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All text and images copyright ©19882004, by Joel Deitch & Corey-Jan Albert. |