(poems go here) When I was young I gave my soul to the sea.
Sometimes I will swear to you that
the waves ebb and tide where my blood should be.

Six years later and the Mercer Island beaches are seared into my retinae;
gray-blue patterns whispering, beckoning my gangly frame.
When I was young I gave my soul to the sea.

I sacrificed skin from my knobby knees to a Japanese cherry tree
that grew in our front yard because I could hear the water best in high branches.
The waves ebb and tide where my blood should be.

In nightmares the water has finally made a beast of me,
tsunamis of anger and guilt seeping into the silent spaces between each rib.
When I was young I gave my soul to the sea.

The ocean offers a terrifying brand of serenity
that can’t be replicated with rivers full of people practicing yoga on floating boards.
The waves ebb and tide where my blood should be.

I once read a quote that said: “I was ok in the sea.
Put me back.” I swore the words were lifted from the hollow of my throat.
When I was young I gave my soul to the sea.
The waves ebb and tide where my blood should be.