I've danced to these rhythms before.

They've run in my ears

through my neck

down my spine

curved through my fingertips

as I mimicked the waves.

 

I've seen them before - my dear.

Chasing my urge to see the world

with my overwhelmed delicate knees,

wrapped in the idea that I've left an imprint of my feet along the coast of Lake Huron

so I'm able to yell as long as nobody's listening

because I've gotten lost in Lake Ontario.

 

It holds the burning sensation I get when the unsalted water finds its way against my heart

because I promised to have a patient love

sifting sand between my toes

simultaneously becoming acquaintances

with the countries I'd never touched before.

 

Before I was scared to have one less layer of skin

not being familiar with the unsalted lakes

and the comfort of people who’ve traveled on

Lake Michigan’s concrete pier

only being known for the courage we’ve thrown into the wind.

 

I've yet to feel the world around me

when I am able to mimic Superior and Erie

within my eyes and fingertips

but somewhere in the middle

I know I'll fall patiently in love.