the tide rises, the tide falls | an oceanic literary magazine

what does meaning mean in a land of silence?
I...

You are a driftwood breath, a mud-pinched sigh,
slow travelling, slow gathering...

Waves crash—
Saltwater drenches west...

When I was a child, I dreamed
a rushing wave from the shore...

All memories return to the ocean.
The calm and the surge, low...

White hands stranded in the blue
counterpane; bleached driftwood...

I exist by the shore, inhaling the sharp salty dusk breeze.
I am standing here, oxidizing, by the dying body of a beached whale...

I captured the sea. I like not knowing
what time it is. Does it seem darker...

I remember the sound of the sea.
The air stirs, moves; the sea blows it...

"Go to the rocks and the living will say hello." - Adam Nicolson, Life Between the Tides

It is impossible
not to disappoint drift...

You are tide.
You are not cement and mortar...