The Compass

Was it ever enough, this small space
Plagued with breakers, sand eating at the soil?

As a child I cut myself on the coarse grass
The sea wind cracked open my skin

The world was salt, every scent and taste.
We thirsted for life without it

I dreamt of cities dense with shadows and street names
Loud with people, their possibilities

But those were other tomorrows—
We disappointed our parents with our hopes

The horizon contained us
Its perimeter, its perfect compass

The loving and hurt embrace of its O