365 Poems – 158 Sea (Rough First Draft)



I kicked driftwood

a hunter once cherished,

and invented regret.


I went to the sea

to smooth down

my splintered edges.


I wanted to sleep

on its back, let

waves smooth out

creases in my soul.


I never wanted

to leave it, remain

wet, glowing, silent.


But the sea, when

I came, was far out,

so I explored my

trench of isolation.


When it did come,

it arrived with

a trembling howl.


There was a reshuffling

of my spirit, and

I was left behind.