Strength was not a facet of my mature
canvas.
Legs, once safe in the sand
were tempted by the Atlantic of my youth.
I was fully aware of her icy claws
and her watery dance of death.

Arresting my fears with
buoyancy
this grinning kayak was my
ticket to freedom.
With the rhythm of my concise movements
I rode the melancholy roar of
her salty tears.

I stopped for just a moment
and let the
oars slip away-
This was my private invitation
to succumb to my fears.
A second chance if you will-
for she offered me attainment
within her inner chemistry.

I realized the ocean could forgive the
naïve,
from the flow of water returning seaward
from the shore.
Now at last she was finally at ease with
me.
The kayak, who creaked underneath
rolled slightly to the left and agreed. 
 
 

 © Joy Marsh