Morning Poetry 17 Feb 2011

Sitting alone
Alone
The morning
is quiet.
Pregnant
with all
that is
frightening
in
my body.

Swimming
through
the deep waters
of this
despair
that envelops me
I float
softly
gently
with my breath
as
tender anchor.

The shipwreck
at sea bottom
holds its
secret cargo.
Bits of
rusted steel
mix with salty sea water
and rise.
The surface
my skin
tingle with
its release.
Sometimes
a shift
sometimes
not.
I am
witness
to this.
Engulfed
by it.
Drowning
yet buoyed.
Not knowing
the mysteries
of the sea.

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