How do we explain the sea to someone who has never stood at its shore? Perhaps by sound: As a ceaseless breath, Rumbling low, exhaling hiss and hush Upon the sand. Perhaps by smell: The scent of salt, decay, and life, Like a storm approaching, Briny and ancient. Perhaps by touch: The feeling is one of immense, uncontained power and space. The wind carries a fine mist that brushes the face. And the ground itself—the sand—shifts and sinks underfoot.
Ooooooh this was great. So many things we can't understand and yet we still try to reach for the meaning. The need to explain and categorize everything is an attempt to bring order to it all even though logically we *know* it's an impossible task. But it's one that's still worth doing imo.
Thank you so much for this! You've captured exactly what I was reaching for! I love how you framed it as bringing order to chaos - because yes, that's such a human impulse, and maybe poetry is just one of our most honest ways of admitting that the categories never quite fit, but we're going to keep trying to name things anyway.
Really appreciate you taking the time to read and respond with such insight! 💙
Stunning. This took my breath, my friend. The way you reach for the ineffable, through sound, scent, temperature, touch, it’s not just poetic, it’s deeply compassionate. “Blue is calm before it becomes longing,” and “an expanse that makes you small,” these aren’t just metaphors, they feel like memory. And that shift into death, where language falters, you held that silence with such grace. This is one of those pieces I’ll return to when words aren’t enough. 🌊💙❤️💛✨️🫶🏻
Saira, this means so much coming from you. Your eye for what's working in a poem always cuts straight to the heart of it. Your friendship and your feedback continue to sharpen my work in ways I'm grateful for. Love and duas 🌊💙
My pleasure! That truly means a lot, Mymy. It’s a gift to witness your work unfold, and to walk beside a poet who writes from such depth and care. Grateful for the way your words shape the silence and for the friendship that holds space beyond them. Love and duas always. ❤️💛💙🩵🌊
Steven, thank you for sharing this. I love how you've distilled it—"words do but point" is exactly it. That gap between what's said and what's real, between thought and feeling, is the territory we keep circling back to as poets, isn't it? Appreciate you reading and responding with your own work. 🙏 All the best,
Ooooooh this was great. So many things we can't understand and yet we still try to reach for the meaning. The need to explain and categorize everything is an attempt to bring order to it all even though logically we *know* it's an impossible task. But it's one that's still worth doing imo.
Thank you so much for this! You've captured exactly what I was reaching for! I love how you framed it as bringing order to chaos - because yes, that's such a human impulse, and maybe poetry is just one of our most honest ways of admitting that the categories never quite fit, but we're going to keep trying to name things anyway.
Really appreciate you taking the time to read and respond with such insight! 💙
Oh Mymy! You describe the sea so intimately. Beautiful!
Thank you :) I’m so glad you enjoyed that part :)
Stunning. This took my breath, my friend. The way you reach for the ineffable, through sound, scent, temperature, touch, it’s not just poetic, it’s deeply compassionate. “Blue is calm before it becomes longing,” and “an expanse that makes you small,” these aren’t just metaphors, they feel like memory. And that shift into death, where language falters, you held that silence with such grace. This is one of those pieces I’ll return to when words aren’t enough. 🌊💙❤️💛✨️🫶🏻
Saira, this means so much coming from you. Your eye for what's working in a poem always cuts straight to the heart of it. Your friendship and your feedback continue to sharpen my work in ways I'm grateful for. Love and duas 🌊💙
My pleasure! That truly means a lot, Mymy. It’s a gift to witness your work unfold, and to walk beside a poet who writes from such depth and care. Grateful for the way your words shape the silence and for the friendship that holds space beyond them. Love and duas always. ❤️💛💙🩵🌊
I enjoyed this. And I'll offer my own poem, which muses on this issue.
Could words but capture what we feel!
So much is said, much less is real.
Words do but point, and this we know
There is a place -- above, below
Beyond, beneath. It matters not.
There, less is said. More felt than thought.
Steven, thank you for sharing this. I love how you've distilled it—"words do but point" is exactly it. That gap between what's said and what's real, between thought and feeling, is the territory we keep circling back to as poets, isn't it? Appreciate you reading and responding with your own work. 🙏 All the best,
Thank you! With appreciation.