By Star McGill

I want to go back to the Ocean,
sit on the beach
in cross-legged reverence.

I remember feelings of awe in church.
I painted scenes about it,
of souls rising from human forms in church pew rows,

Each form was a vibrant blue
edged in yellow,
increasing in brightness
until turning into streaks that
reached toward Heaven.

But the Ocean,
it was Her blue I painted,
not fabricated emotions
of comfort driven myths.
I painted Her without realizing.

Her crashing,
moon-tide driven truths
hold more power and honesty
than any church service.

Her salty water
rocked me in the womb,
to the beginning of my creation
She returns me.

I am hundreds of miles away
but I hear Her
calling me back to Her edge.

She is renewal.
Even the sand strips the old
away from my feet
as She forms my new skin.

I am in deep evolution,
so far down its path
that I am scattered.

I must return to my origin,
be birthed from Her waters again.
She will press all my fragments into whole.

For more self-study, The Urban Howl recommends The Essential Rumi, New Expanded Edition.

#BELIKEWATER

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