The Calling

December '2014

I sat on the beach with my legs sunk in sand and chin on my knees
wearing a veil of hair
having a conversation with the ocean.
He was luring me, teasing me, inviting me.
He was succeeding.
He made me want to walk into his arms,
just right into him,
deeper and deeper still.

I didn't care if I couldn't breathe.
I didn't care if I would drown.
I didn't care at all.
Who listens to their heads when their hearts ruled?

It wasn't the first time.
He had come knocking onto my window with rain,
had played with my hair and driven me mad.

He left messages everywhere.
In small glass bottles with cork heads
he'd sent me love spells
sometimes as sand, sometimes as salt candies and sometimes even poetry.

The voodoo worked.
With white champas adorning my hair
I danced slowly into him
and he welcomed me with a roar and wave.

I got wet...                                                
                  ...never to dry again. 

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