(Thoughts born from my teenage years on the islands of American Samoa. Also, in reference to the note in the last post about my prostate cancer, I'm now at 9 months cancer free after surgery.)
Deep
in night
when I think
I’m not
sleeping
I hear again
the waves
pound,
break,
and retreat.
That watery
rush and rumble
disturbs me
with its power,
disarms me
with its
yearning,
on Nua Beach
across the street
in my dreams.
Sometimes
this old me,
dreams young
on Samoan isle,
slipping
out of bed
and out the door
with barefoot tread
to cross the road
and kneel again
on sand and sea.
The agua
thick with salt,
rises,
peaks,
and falls
in crash,
crouch,
and spread
above my call,
beyond my shout.
Like breath
and heart,
like sleep
and wake,
like cold
and fire,
like indifference
and desire
the ocean
they call sami
pulls both ways,
knows no rest.
Worn me
bundled
in bed
and dream,
torn me
floating
above coral
and reef,
meet at ocean
that holds
and molds,
that sings
and rolls
the young me
into the old.
