Waterchild

She approached on the water,
toes dancing on the tops of jellyfish,
like stepping stones.
and in the sand,
she counted shells and memories
with hair like mercury
and ribbons of weed and foam.

She looked over us
and off to the east.
With an ancient countenance,
she relearned the earth,
the air,
and the seasons that she had long forgotten.

A voice spilled over the rim of blue lips -
it sounded of mirrors,
water, and of the fluid darkness
that hosted only leviathans
and phosphorescent swimmers.

"I remember the sand,” she said,
“the richness of life
and my shipwrecked spirit."

Born of salt, fear and suffocation
She knew she did not belong here
and with darkened eyes
she plunged back into the sea
and went gliding, silent by. 

©2003