Spoken word inspired by Sea Sunday…
Sea Sunday
She rolls in:
grey, blue, turquoise; crests of white foam lapping at my feet,
at the sandy slopes and pebbled mounds so steep.
She is mystery;
hidden depths, unchartered waves, secret caves,
coves, sounds, haven, ho.
Her sultry breakers call me in, drawing me, siren calling, is she friend or foe?
Feet sinking, pebbles chinking, as I breathe salt laden breaths my soul emerges blinking
in the light of sparkled diamonds twinkling.
She is commodity;
a watery resource: food laden, playground haven, power trading.
Garbage tip, prison ship, danger fraught asylum trip.
Seafarers, fishers, mariners, merchants, lifeboat crews
answer the call to ocean deep so we can choose.
Brave folk whose lives are at sea –
they leave the shore to fill our precious needs:
that shirt on my back, iPad on my lap, plastic wrapped symbols that fill a mindless gap?
Maybe.
She is life;
“in the beginning” breathed from divine creator, spirit hovered, cultivator; holy illustrator:
there she is, the sea. Great and wide, creatures infinite, filling every tide.
Pure watery depths holy and clean, vitamin sea, breathing life to you and me.
Purity now diluted, polluted, cargo looted,
our waste she spits, plastic tat bit by bit, with a liberal sprinkling of literal shit.
Creatures retreating, depleted, ghost net entwined, creation groaning and confined.
And yet.
She is sanctuary.
Blue Therapy for the mull-ers and mindful, seekers and spiritual, Holy space for the prayerful.
She is solace, haven, muse; anxiety transfused, it matters not whether science or spirit infused.
Ocean oglers, sea surfers, kayak riders, paddle swingers, swimmers and sup-pers nourished with her joy,above all, the Spirit that lies within – man cannot destroy.
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