Poems and Power: Sept 12


i am called to water like i remember

deeply the comfort of the womb.

the softness of floating,

the blur between skin and salt.

diving into the wreckage

is how i make sense

of blood and nerves.

the deepness, terrifying.

breath exploding from each pore.

unknown creatures with hues never

seen on the surface, teeth in

unfamiliar places, fins large enough to

carry the weight of all things.

The water sign. The siren.

Colors only seen in the deep.

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