Member Poem

I miss the ocean.
It’s far from view and they say,
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder”,
I thought that rule was just for people,
But if that was true, I wouldn’t yearn for the corrupting smell of salt in the air,
that plays with my heart strings and floods my veins for a longing,
for something…I’ve yet to know quite what.
Perhaps, it’s because the soul of the ocean isn’t metaphorical,
It isn’t intangible,
maybe it’s soul is in the foam, and in the waves,
and in the song transcended from the moon to the depths,
all working in perfect unison to cause a force beyond reasonable comprehension.
Maybe the heart lies in each grain of sand,
those grains I find tucked in-between stitches in the seams of my pockets, even though I haven’t paid a visit in months.
Months? It is years, now?
The corroding soils beneath my feet when  I walk along the line of marine and mundane,
send a clear message that time is irrelevant here.
Months and years have a weight of their own, in this place.
The mystical unique body of the unknown,
I just…
Miss it.
I miss being there, the smell, the sand, the life that beats with every heart beat,
in the rhythm with how the waves beat against the shore,
I miss it.
And I beg of you,
I plead,
I wish on every shooting star, on every clock reading 11:11, on every dandelion in every field,
take me back.