Strong as the Sea

I will grow my hair to my waist

so people see me as a mermaid.

They’ll see the soft strength of my body

fluid as water, but swimming against the tide

with a fierceness you might mistake for anger.

They will watch the curve of my waist,

full lips and hooded eyes

and know I have explored an ocean of pleasure

under my own gentle fingers,

that I hold the deed to this landscape I live in,

and visitors are rarely granted entry,

as my rules are strict.

They will notice the way my hands slip

like satin over rocks and shells,

and see how swept away I am

by the beauty this world contains,

how I lean to kiss every skipping fish,

every strand of seaweed,

seeing in it my Beloved.

They will observe my unsteady feet,

and know I’m unused to walking

on the surface of this life;

I am the one who plunges,

who flows every day with

waves of passion,

who dives and seeks to understand.

They will watch how hard I laugh,

how I lick the food from my lips,

how I twist into my bed at night

and allow my back to arch,

my shape to pronounce me woman,

and they will know without a doubt

I am not ashamed of the pleasures of this world.

I will continue to love and swim

and feel and moan and touch and eat –

and never glance to your eyes,

to see if I’ve had enough.