ocean mother

by Linda M. Crate

you call to me,
ocean mother, i hear you
when i sleep
singing to me of corals
and the deepest of
deeps;
hymns of blue and green
etched upon the surface
of your tongue
salted and ancient—
telling me of fishes and dolphins
sharks and crabs
octopus and squids,
and i can't understand the meaning
of the books you pour upon
my countenance
when you knock me over
insist to look deeper;
you tell me of ancient monsters and
of all the beauties found
glimmering deep
within—
i want to swim within your waves,
and you call me to come closer
like any good child should;
but i can't help but fear your fury for you
dash rocks to pieces with your mighty
breath and have thrown men
to be carrion for all your
creatures
a bi-polar mother
beautiful yet repulsive—
you tell me that i can trust you,
like the shells you've washed upon the shore
or the sea turtles that made it to your
distant waves;
but i do not know if that's a truth or a lie
so i remain safe on the shore
longing for your embrace and loathing it all the same.