The world is blue

   I used to think I didn’t mean anything; 

My mother sat and watched me grasp 

for the life preservers. 

  Her new boyfriend stood at the edge, thinking it would be a good lesson. My mouth filled with water. I started pulling at the threads of the boat, surfacing up and sinking down. Thrashing the empty liquid. 

Soon all I could make was: 

(…) 

   Yet, nothing took me in. I felt the hands pull me up. Maybe the sea wanted me to have a new home, but could see I liked land. I was scared. Scared of the unknown — were there sharks, hidden worlds, even the glowing lights? I could barely handle it here. 

​

    I’ve seen people call out to the ocean and it waves hi back. I see people mocking the tundra and throwing rocks, glass, and trash for a kick. Maybe they are drunk and think of her as only scenery for their bliss. The campfire glows and is proud to have a background. Background? She touches the purely shore and sinks back quietly. Despite the rage and ignorance of its help. There people glow and pick up seashells, call them daughters, and kiss its forehead. They thank the waters and then it goes. Sometimes the children who play by the banks are more wise than any adult who holds its hand. 

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    People jump on the back of her, and she lifts them across her back. Down again, and then I remember her name during rain. *kisses* she blows to me like a figurehead. So I drink a clean version of her? Do I not plant into her soil underwater? Breathing in like an aquaphor, reminds me of long distance family phone calls. 

​

*ring* I’m sorry I haven’t seen you in a while, I’ve been out of town. 

​

“Okay human.” She lets the grass grow green. Suddenly, I noticed her in my veins. Am I not salt water, bags of saline? No, probably not. But she is still passing along the shore. Drown me? No. Kill me? No. Let me die! I call out hurricanes and go swimming at night. But suddenly, I’m alive? She’s kind to me. 

​

   So I ask myself, what is not done with care? I see the dolphins kick in. The seals dance like my family did in Salsa class. I laughed as I played football. I laughed as I felt weightless. She heals some chronic pain. I desired to know maps because of her. 

​

   Tell me, do you love me? 

Why haven’t I drowned? 

There is a mother hidden there. 

There is a mother hidden everywhere now.