on missing the ocean

A poem has been trying to climb out
slowly.
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,
conference,
or speaking tour.

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

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

you will speak calmly
modestly
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
finally
you will have that big cry
alone
with the words,
like a functioning person,
whatever that means.

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

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About mirit mizrahi

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