I Court The Sea

The sea, like my soul-dreaming holds

Hidden currents, curves and folds.

From high, a smooth companion seems,

Nestling the shore, swept clean by dreams.

Down low, of course, the sea is restless,

Harder to predict more close I get,

Safer it is to keep my distance,

But why the sea, if not for getting wet?

.

I court the sea.

I stand upon the rocky shelf

And dare the sea,

The dream, myself.

.

It teases me, waves splash elsewhere

So close, it hasn't touched me yet.

So close now I risk being swept away,

But why the sea, if not for getting wet?

.

Not for getting, not forgetting,

Soul-dreaming long forgotten pain,

Soul gift, my getting not forgetting,

Cold shock of feeling pain again.

.

I court the sea,

Tears clinging to the rocky shelf,

I brave the sea,

And waken to the dream, myself.

.

Torn asunder, pain and wonder

So much more than bargained for to get,

Scouring, powering, pouring, soaring,

To die, to sleep, to wake in getting wet.

.

The sea, my silent dreaming deep

Could safe be left afar, asleep.

I could continue, dry and dusted,

Long-forgotten wounds encrusted,

Creeping at a snail's pace

Dry, but limping, far from grace.

Not for me; I will be free.

For sharp salt pain, I court the sea.

.

(c) Jenny Ford 2006

If you like interpreting poems yourself, don't read this bit.

This poem was written during a period of great psychological change, as I brought to light repressed memories and emotions, and learned to live with them.

My inner turmoil did seem to be as powerful and potentially destructive as the ocean.

The sea always seemed to be the perfect metaphor for my subconscious state, somehow, and I really did walk to the edge of the rock shelf and dare it to take me, more than once!