Saturday, January 14, 2017

I don't know if I told you, I love the ocean more than almost anything.
The way I love a couple of people.
In an underlying, irrelevant-of-all-else fashion.

Yesterday, in a thaw, the air smelled of Dar and Zanzibar.
I spent the morning, measuring out steel in layers of clothes,
Walking barefoot through Stonetown.
Waving to the dark throbbing of the port.

The air slowly froze, the ground began to crust under our boots.
We sank in the mud, bursting beneath the frosted layer
Like the first plunge into a merengue.
In the afternoon, with the hammering rain, soaked through, I forgot
The smell of the morning.

But I remember when I lay down at night
And in the morning when I slip the ancient coin
That hangs on the silver chain
That I once picked out of the shop,
Nine years ago.

A decade goes by quickly.
But when you love something,
As I love the sea,
Deep as the current,

What is time to wait for something you love, really.

The smell of fish and ancient concrete,
Reminded me of another place, another truer self.
Timing is everything, and timing has dealt brutal lessons.
What matters, is that one continues on.

And on.
And on.
And on.

Until one day, you find yourself again in the sun.


I started a new job last week. It's not easy. But it's good. And it will help me get to where I am heading.

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