What We Forget

Even with eyes open,
we are blind
to what the sea can tell us:
breathe deeply,
make waves,
tread lightly on sharp stones.

We forget how soft our hands are –
how tender our feet.
The calloused palm cannot
possibly sense every nuance of hurt –
every heart left mourning.

So we walk forward,
heal wounds,
seek the tick-tock beat
of other broken hearts.
To truly find ourselves,
we must use the salve of spirit –
walk into the vast ocean,
not with fear on our lips,
but with love –
the kind of love
where even the soft slip
of silk against skin
causes a ripple of feeling
and a song –
a trembling that can be heard
as deep as
the forgotten Atlantis.