By Jerilyn Young
My body is a vessel
Navigating ocean waves
Pushing
Pulling
Flowing sensations of unknown
Preparing for rough seas ahead
No land in sight
No anchor to drop
I must become the waves ~
Living in their movement
Their swells
Their surges
I pray to rest in the breeze of their ripples
Washing away the internal sludge
Only to be morphed back into the surf
Rising
Falling
Embracing the current I become a wavelet ~
Gently tossed to shore
I feel my hands grasp tightly
What wasn’t there
Solid ground
My existence