Sunken

All of it happened

All of it finite, all of it gone

Yet here’s me

trying to rearrange the chairs

on the long-submerged deck

as if there is still a chance

of rendering the shipwreck bearable, somehow

Many leagues beneath this futile activity

Abundant life blooms in the stillness, undisturbed.

(Better sailors know when to jump ship)

Eve Was A Realist

I feigned ignorance (until that first touch)

But mercifully my spell in Eden was brief;

I tumbled from the garden bruised, but ever-grateful

that we can’t unknow what we know

Surely we’ve all bitten into the apple a little too eagerly at times,

intent on proving our innocence?

Eve was a realist

She knew it was time to blow the whistle

on all Adam’s fig-leaf cover ups

And like all good messengers, she got shot

In the silence, I hear her whisper:

Tree or no tree, you already know how naked you are

So stop pretending otherwise.

We Are Land, Too

This is not the time to break:

Much as I long for the refuge of the waters,

that headlong dive into brokenness,

we are made of stone, too, and can contain

all that flows

Holding our shape, the granite of our bones such a necessary strength

If we’re to avoid a drowning

Mammals of land and sea

Shallow, deep

Liquid and solid

We are beyond yet needful of both

As dependent on one as the other

Study the charts:

Sometimes it’s wiser to answer the Sirens’ call

And bask on the rocks a while

The wind and sun drying our skin

Our contours once again defined

Trust me, the depths will reclaim us soon enough.