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I watched the video of the ocean

that you sent

and read Rumi’s “The Seed Market”

per your request.

 

It is mid-morning here;

a cool breeze brushes my skin while I write.

 

I could see that in the

spaciousness

of the sea,

in its soothing, short-lived foam

and gently crashing waves,

you greet yourself.

 

In the saltiness:

a thousand shakes,

tuna casseroles and

lemon-butter green beans.

 

You’re ankle-deep

in bathwater that

warmed your baby skin

before you knew of

harshness.

 

Woo-shh,

woo-shh,
the rhythm endures.

 

There, face-to-face with the ocean,

there is no fear of being absorbed. . .

 

There is only oneness

with the source

of each passing wave.

 

To all forms of darkness:

 

We thank you

for your lessons

which we,

in this very moment,

summon the wisdom

and the strength

to love.

 

Is it after receiving you

through other avenues—
our guns, our judgments,

our rage, our

disbelief, our grief,

our guilt, our borders,

our walls, our false

talks of peace, our

denial, our self-

destruction, our violence,

our resistance to

accept you, that

we have arrived;

 

we have

at long last

evolved.

 

Thank you,

we are grateful

for your lessons.

 

We know well now

to honor the stem

that binds us.

Naomi Schademan is a traveller and writer. She currently lives in the Poconos where she practices yoga and meditation. Contact her at nschademan@gmail.com.

 

Photo: Mario Antonio Pena Zapatería

Oglasi