A Sandcastle Song

“Just listen to me,” calls the ocean. My mother Forever and always she’ll be. With a hug that embraces the entire world and a strict hand to any who would disrespect her.

I just do this come to the beach thing every once and awhile just to say “hi” and what-not. Pay my respects and all that. Feel like I need to because I live in Southern California and everyone expects me to be on the beach and have a solid year-round tan. But I don’t. I was more tan all the summers back in Iowa than any here.

And why does that even matter? It doesn’t. I don’t care if I get a tan. I don’t care if parts of me never see the light of day. I don’t care if I look like a California girl or not. I don’t care if I stand out at the beach. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t. I do not care.

Because when I’m here, I’m not beautiful. I’m not full of beauty. I am emptied of it. I am emptied of it for Her. for my Mother ocean. I don’t feel the sun here at the beach. I’m not here when he shows his face. I’m not here for him. I’m here for here. My mother calling from her deepest darkest depths of despair matching the vibrations of my inner heart’s dark wet dungeon.  I recognize her songs welling up from her belly beneath the surface as my own.

One day in starships we will sing these songs together like crickets. I long to hold her curling iron. And to bathe in ink in her waters.

Here, at her doorstep I approach. One foot in the sand one hovering above the liquid top layer. She invites me into her blue. Her heart like mine. I feel the breeze on my bare white skin. I hear the seagulls’ songs and the smile my heart is wearing. Big, deeeeep and abundant  is my heart in her presence at her altar of glory and benevolent power.

“Come to me, come to me, come to me.” she calls.

I wish I could have her as my only lover and friend.

I’ll mold, morph, siphon, dispense, transfix, oscillate, regurgitate, emulate, undulate,…and sing  a sloppy song of inadequate praise to the lifegiving water-goddess

in me

in sloppy


all over

too bad


in a journal

with a pen


mated with a sand-

castle inside of me.

About heathencomehome

question marks & ellipses
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