on missing the ocean

A poem has been trying to climb out
i imagined myself in a poetry race
with alice walker
on a boat with guns pointed

& me,
further from the ocean
than i have ever lived.

it hasn’t been that long,
i tell myself.
shorter than a vacation,
or speaking tour.

but knowing
is half the pain.
tomorrow i will go to the springs,
god willing,

the boat will sail
(god willing)
& no matter
what happens,

you will speak calmly
play the harmonica
in my head
for days after i see you.

i want to write the kind of poem
that shakes your body
brings tears to your eyes, makes you think
you will have that big cry
with the words,
like a functioning person,
whatever that means.

but now,
my greatest fear sets in
heavy around my heart:
i need
the ocean
to write
such a thing.


About mirit mizrahi

artist, writer, activist, giant. זהירות! אני מזרחית
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