An ocean rocks me,
this movement of my body-prayers
placed between us.
Not as a division
but a frontier
where I can touch the unseen.
Even my mute hands can speak
because You have given them power
to feed my soul.
My limbs brush Your forms
for You have given each nerve
a place to lose its voice in Yours.
Sometimes I take You out
then You bring me in.
Everywhere is Your Heart
so I am never lost.
When I speak
You steal my words
to wet Your tongue.
You take away every right or wrong;
turn me over in this ocean
for the delight of a movement
that is Yours alone.
Image: Oil on Canvas, "The Woman in the Waves"
Gustave Courbet.
