Out to Sea

Poetry is not just any story

It is my story

One that need to be heard

Along the many others

One that symbolizes how I feel

One that shows true love

One that shows a journey-

The waves crash along the beach

Shells flow to be picked up and judged,

Starring out to the sea;

Lost in my meaning

My value is gone

I had broken a promise,

Maybe foolish,

But still a promise

To myself

Never to leave my home

My friends,

My life,

Life what life?

One where you could barely hold on,

Not knowing if you would live

To see your friends again,

Be gone as quickly as the tide

Roles in and out.

No one could have saved you,

No matter how much you screamed

For help,

No matter how much you cried;

Nothing ever happened they say

You’re crazy--

I’m crazy?

Then these millions of shells

Must not be on this beach,

My scars still haven’t faded,

One letter to a sad fisherman,

Who almost lost everything,

But he knew what to look for,

His tears it showed,

He couldn’t bear he lost the only thing he cared about

His scarred mermaid

In a sharks jaw,

In it who cares he did not give birth

He is a dad incapable of raising his children? --

He does not hit, scream and hurt,

He is a genuine man

Who only knows how to love.

My tail maybe tattered

An arm maybe broken,

Only dolphins can carry me back

To my true place,

My best friends,

Who help me move on,

Still back in a place that we use to call home,

Broken shells are never picked up

Except for the Pastor who chooses to love,

Broken shattered pieces of me,

Try to pick them up,

Don’t let me wash to sea,

To fossilize and therefore be dead.

That was all it took,

Just a close step to death,

A journey into Davy Jones Locker--

Then they knew that it was I

Who was telling the truth.

It got me to wonder,

What if I never truly came out of Davy Jones Locker

Braking some hearts,

What would they have done,

Just buried me, because they

Wouldn’t help get me out,

No matter how many times,

How many angels called,

No matter how many marks,

No matter how many close calls,

Yes a call to a fisherman to break his heart,

For he could not see and find his mermaid

For he was not allowed to talk,

For she was shattered on the inside,

For she would have been finally claimed by the shark.

Yet for my dolphins

Who saved us all.

Sitting on the beach,

Slightly humming

Move’in on

Which we all use to sing--

For it is my life on the beach,

I have finally gotten my legs

I have now got my freedom,

I have now got the fisherman

And Pastor,

My dolphins and some new ones.

I have finally gotten my family back.

Life is much like a walk on the beach,

When it is cool sand and many shells,

It is good

When it is wet and you sink,

Life is hard and you must have the endurance to take it on,

You will get out,

If only you try--

You never know what is in the future,

Marriage to celebrate a new life

Or death and having to set one off the beach to sea.

Poetry is not just a short story,

But it tells of a life.