My Ocean Sways and Rushes
By Alex Gibbs
Sometimes when I go to the beach,
I stand in the freezing cold ocean with
the currents surging against my legs and arms,
reminding me how my mind
resembles an ocean.
In the water
I can feel it all,
all the black oil drips of insecurity
floating through the water, and
raging and staining against my speckled skin,
the gentle waves of creativity that inspire me
to swim against the used cigarettes of boredom and hopelessness,
and the soft sands of joy that I jump to
after feeling the sharpness of a plastic bag,
that very well could have been a jellyfish.
Sometimes I can lift the jagged stones
and scoop out the bottle caps from the sand,
but I cannot remove the oil stains from my skin
or get rid of all those damn cigarettes,
oh, the many times I’ve tried.
Polluting a serene and beautiful ocean,
but why in the hell would I do that for?
The reason always escapes me.
Or maybe, just maybe garbage is natural
and I am spending all my time like some idiot,
thinking that all this garbage is somehow my fault
and I should be ashamed of all the damage I’ve done to my ocean.
In all honesty, I think I may never understand my ocean
and all the waves, grains of sand, and trash
buried inside of it and how it all works.
Perhaps that is for the best and
the water isn’t meant to be understood
and I should focus on the
gentle waves enveloping my body,
while the dark sky morphs into a gorgeous sunrise.
For the truth is that
by always focusing on the pollution
I am wasting my time with my ocean, and
some days will be filled with ashy cigarettes and filthy oil
while others will allow me to float upon the waves.