Light Through Water

by

Makena Metz

I stare at the shimmering ocean
calm, clear turquoise
shallows rippling into lapis lazuli
fathoms, the deepest water,
sapphire, burning with blue-purple
light as we were that day,
like soft clouds
drifting through the near empty sky,
floating off the grass, the sand
sectioned off in ribbons,
layered towards the water
dry to wet guiding us
towards the cool, aqua marine
through the warm,
plumeria-humid air
while tall palm trees, curving
sentinels, long fronds open
to the sunlight, watched over
the floating swimmers
and us, submerged
in the clear blue sea
gently floating, kissing,
looking at one pink umbrella, printed
striped towels and plastic
folding chairs,
the smell of spraying sunscreen
drifting towards us
on the coconut breeze
and the flicker of the ring on my hand
shines through the water
like a beacon,
sparkling through the champagne
bubbles, glinting past the purple
urchins and grey-green turtles
the snorkelers and surfers, bobbing
on the surface, who look
for the greatest treasure,
for coin or for bone,
something lost then returned,
a trove of things deep below the salty waves.

We found not the conches
on the shore
nor the shells sinking
into the sandbars
nor the glimmering of any diamond,
long since fallen off
a lonely finger,
lost to the depths,
but the infinity of the promise of a lifetime
binding us together
as clear as day,
as pure as light through water.

Makena Metz is an LA native who writes for the page, screen, and stage. She is getting her MFA in Creative Writing and MA in English from Chapman University's dual degree program and is a member of DGA, ASCAP, and the SCL. Find her work on Coverfly or NPX.