The Sea: A Poem

As I float in oblivion,

The water holds me in its salty embrace.

The fragrant breeze cools my skin

And caresses my face.

The gentle rocking is comforting,

With its constant motion.

The air heavy with the coconut oil

In my suntan lotion.

I can taste salt on my tongue,

Hear gulls scream as they soar,

And I listen to the endless crashing

Of waves on the shore.

I feel the rays of the sun on my face,

And should I open my eyes,

I’d see white cotton clouds

And cerulean blue skies.

Warm and inviting,

She compels me to stay.

A hypnotic hostess,

She has her way.

All my senses are filled up

By the boundless sea,

Sight, sound, touch, hearing, and taste

Are fed by its immensity.

The ocean pulls us to her

From the safety of the shore -

A siren’s song of old,

Impossible to ignore.

We use her as a playground

For our watery pleasures;

We fish in her belly

And steal her rich treasures.

We sail on her surface,

And we plunder the deep,

But her shimmering turquoise

Has secrets to keep.

Her spirit can be benevolent

And forgiving of our sins.

In an instant, she can be angry,

With punishing swells and winds.

She can make dreams come true

Or feed you to the fishes,

Push you to her depths

Or grant all your wishes.

I’ve often wondered:

Why are we so drawn to the sea?

Is it reminiscent of the womb,

Or the birthplace of humanity?

Did our ancestors crawl

From the ubiquitous slime

Fixing our path to the future

And altering time?

Or is it some shared memory

Of a cognizant plan,

When the sea meant food

And survival for man?

You’ve probably discovered that I absolutely love water – especially the ocean. I’ve never understood my fascination, as neither of my parents loved the sea. I, on the other hand, can’t seem to get enough of it. I go the shore whenever I get the chance, which isn’t nearly often enough. Luckily, I can be at the shore in two hours, and I have a choice between the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico.

I could never live too far from the ocean, and I’ve always felt sorry for people living in the Midwest or in other locales where the sea is but a distant longing. Of course, not everyone loves the ocean as I do, so I suppose it doesn’t bother everyone who lives a long way from sea and shore.

Just about every American lives near some sort of water, however. The U.S. is riddled with rivers, lakes, reservoirs, streams, and ponds. And most of us enjoy taking advantage of water. We might use it for swimming, fishing, boating, water skiing, or parasailing. We might just enjoy being near a body of water and appreciating the view. For some reason, most humans are inherently drawn to water. Why? Is it some “inherited memory,” some survival mechanism? Perhaps I’m over-thinking the whole thing, as I’m sometimes wont to do.