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Poetry The Druid who lives in the sea

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I’ve met the Druid who lives in the sea, one winter’s night when out late on a walk

Stumbled over gnarled roots, tripping over rocks

Beneath me waves they crashed against the wall of worn out shore

Exhausted from the constant lash, sloughing on for more.

The slap of waves I could not see, but spray upon my feet

Warned me that if I should fall, my maker I would meet

But still I pressed on, tear soaked cheeks, remembering a lover

Who discarded she who loved him so for warmth come from another

And there it was, at cliff’s high peak, a rock beneath me slid

Waves strained up to catch my fall, my soul the depths did bid.

“Come join us,” tides whispered, foam curling in delight.

“Our sisters are the moon and stars, bathe always in their light.”

And, in truth, I considered, when I beheld how bright she glowed

Could I find a final warmth beneath the waves so cold?

Fingers throbbing, aching, screaming, gripping stone too round

I did not find her, I was dying, it was me she found.

Her hair the vines that hug the trees, the webs that hold the earth.

Her breath the first breeze over the plains, her lips flush with mirth.

Her eyes I shall not forget, not happy or sad or knowing

But everything and anything and nothing, always growing.

When she pulled me from the wall and set me firm at last,

She did not strain or show her fear or hoist me slow or fast.

She could have been plucking fruit, examining flesh for color,

Or bending over a flower and watering it til it blooms fuller.

And then one wave reached over the edge, enfolded her inside

She rode it to the ocean floor, where I know she resides

Once a month, when moon is full, I come here, hoping to meet

The druid who saved me out of my tears and stood me on my feet.

And the lover, the one I would die for, he now means nothing to me.

But I dream and I long and I pine away for the Druid who lives in the sea.
 

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