Aegri Somnia Vana*

to the land beyond the sea

the fragrance of the earthen potpourri
    walking down the hint of a path,
    erased by impatient feet,
                      to the sea.
The forest marched down
to the waters edge
    clung to slivers in the severe wrinkled face of the cliff, and
    on islands the tide shaped;
Yet couldn’t,
   wouldn’t press,
   even a gnarled toe
into the rocky sand-shore,
    to feel a shy wave
    glide forward,
    reach around toes to heals, and
    tug you in closer to play.
How lonely!-
    to only drink
    the windward rains;
only feel briny breezes run wild fingers
    through needle-tresses,
only smell the suns reflection, scattered from every
    glistening pebble
    bull kelp, fallen feather;
To watch, and wait, at the precipice of a wonder;
To be rooted to this rugged, cumbersome land
    and never to touch, taste,
    one teardrop
                       of the Pacific’s compassion.

May your tears always find a path home to the sea. ~

Olympic Mountains

Written on November 5th, 2012

*Translation: A sick man’s empty dreams, a line of Horace’s

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