the sound of the ocean held in your hands

The ocean whispers through the pores
of your open palms
calloused with the love of the open air
and the feel of drift wood and sand against your freckle kissed skin

Your hands tell a story
of childhood beaches
sifting through the sand
to find the treasures beneath
the bones of a nautilus hung on a frayed leather thong
around your familiar neck
evoking the tales your father told you
when the sea spat him back upon the land
a boat in port
the scent of miles of ocean far behind him
though not the potential of fresh fish    
cradled in your belly
from a coal cooked feast

You remember the taste of your first oyster
and your father’s laughter
as you blanched at the salted flesh
later you would listen intently
as he explained to you the magic
held between those roughened shells
and how, deep beneath the sea
they grew sand into precious shiny pearls

Years later he would tell you
how precious aphrodisiacs those salted mouthfuls were
like the first taste of a woman on your tongue
exploring a mystical land
never to forget the pearl that would lead you both
to new ecstasies

The ocean whispers through the pores
of your open palms
calloused with the love of the open air
and the feel of drift wood and sand against your freckle kissed skin

It is here against the lull of the waves caressing the star lit shore
that you dreamed of long journeys in search of mermaids and sirens
beckoning from rocky shoals, luring unsuspecting men to their deaths
amid the hunt for desert islands and buried treasure
campfire stories slipping into your subconscious
where they burned their way into your imagination
and never left

Your home now filled with your beach combed treasures
and childhood memories of fishing trawlers and
turtles caught in twisting nets
an old glass buoy hanging upon a fraying rope from the ceiling
found traversing the vast ocean alone
its stories locked within the discoloured glass

Every morning you rise to stare at the ocean
and every morning it stares back at you from a low set window
the dawning sunlight lighting up the off whites and muted pinks
of a lifetime spent picking shells from the sand
and hauling drift wood from the waves
to turn into designer furniture and nick-knacks  
that would keep you close to the glorious saltiness
of your souls home

Among your own ocean scoured treasures
a large nautilus takes pride of place
on the shell drenched bookcase
the sound of the sea kept always close to your heart
beside a picture of your wife
you pulled from a long ago turbulent sea
like a fairy tale prince whose love
captured the heart of a mermaid
and gave her mortal life
just like you dreamed as a boy
sitting beside a campfire
listening to your father’s tales
of the untameable and magic laden ocean

© Indie Adams 2013