12.29.22

I was afraid that I was losing the Pacific, slowly. That I would lose the cold of it, that I wouldn’t be able to feel what was underneath anymore, a warm current brushing past my hand in the water by surprise. When you fall in love with such a relief like that. Finally, having waited all this time to meet you. You as in everlasting, as in ocean. Everything becomes clear out there. Pure terror, pure joy, pure spirit. Distilled silence. I hadn’t really seen the sun set or the moon rise before my time with her. I would always step into the shock of the cold cold cold and then my body would catch up to me. I’d look ahead then. Is it here that I learned to really see? Feet coming off the ground and arms pushing through the current. Deeper, deeper, deeper. Who is entering who? The dark green blue black wall of water coming down on me, ten thousand hammers. What if I forget that kind of embrace? I can’t even use words to finish describing it to you. In California, I had given myself to the Pacific and I didn’t want any of it back. All those years, lingering on the shore, afraid of the water’s deep. Then, finally breaking the barrier. Like walking out of my body and and into everything else.