Sacred Contracts XXVII: Independent Women

   
Being Alone is Her Default    
   
I.    
   
We spill across sand because    
nothing can hold us back.    
Aquatic creatures swimming    
the coastal waters of mankind;    
always mistresses, never wives.    
   
Our mystery is our strength;    
our strength our independence.    
The Ocean is a refuge, our lives    
unstoppable waves cracking    
the shipyards of commerce.    
   
When angry, we swell; when hurt    
we rise up to a category greater    
than our depths; we evade nets;    
we swallow ships, our graveyards    
are vast, watery treks of death;    
   
We live, but are haunted from within    
memories; we churn as caterpillar’s    
from shore to shore, rhythmic motion    
seeking a channel to lead us home    
to the inner sanctum of our ourselves.    
   
II.    
   
There is no reflection in the ocean;    
dark water ensures its inventory    
of sunken treasure is concealed;    
men dive in vain for the diagram    
of creation, their map of origin.    
   
When we feel trapped we carve    
new ways of escape; we chisel    
rough stone until a smooth fall;    
we rust iron until its oxide doors    
pinprick our metal imprisonment.    
   
Yet, despite our resolve, some    
discover their Sacred Contract;    
as above becomes below reflected    
in glacier'd eyes of equal Love    
for the first time. It's then we affirm    
   
no man is an island unto himself,    
and we learn neither is any woman.    
~  
 
(for J, my equal)