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The Ocean
Sarah Sutherland
Her roaring waves and chilly waters,
Brushing over your trembling skin.
Her throbbing heart pounding with the tides,
Beating you about the terrified shore.
She carries you up before thrusting you down
continuously,
She’s forever a liquid-lined masterpiece, a mystery.
She’s a force of nature,
Powerful as a knight in glistening armour.
She’s the wild horizon,
She’s the edge of glory.
Her never-ending wilderness is utterly out of sight,
Her roaring waves sound you to your sleep tonight.
She emerges like vivid, blinding car lights bleeding over
a declivitous slope in the inky early
AM
,
She howls like a lonely wolf in the moonlight.
She bellows like an angry tiger roaring from beyond,
She towers atop like the skyscrapers of New York City.
She cleanses like the dead sea of Jordan,
She is as viscous as a hissing tap left running.
She is as unpredictable as a magician who flips your
mind around completely,
She is more frightening than a father telling a spooky
story to a gullible young child.
She’s the sand tangled through your knotted, salty hair,
She’s the salt that’s cemented to your tingling skin.
She’s the gradually fading tan line that wanes over
countless memories,
She’s the dawn’s horizon.
She’s the bath of nature, cleansing and revitalizing,
She’s the sun’s bed, for the time it must abandon to the
horizon.
She’s the shore of glory.
She’s a glass half full with a silver lining.
‘
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