A Strange Case of Home
Across the ridge, the wind blows.
The sea grass ruffles.
You came here half dead, flatlined,
traveling to this place for no other reason
than it was terrain you had never seen,
a mere point on the map,
a spit of land reaching as far out into the sea
as you could find.
There is no one here.
You and a few seagulls tap dancing on the shore behind you.
It is early in the season,
bitter cold despite the bright sunshine
and more sensible people are inland,
inside, waiting for summer to bring them out of their shells.
But you could not wait.
You had need of sun, of light,
temperature be damned,
you need to flush out the dark places
and nothing does this like unexplored territory,
and so, though you stand stock still on the beach
and watch the sea grass dance,
your soul dances with each blade,
it flies unburdened, higher than the gulls,
higher than the horizon, higher even
than the morning sun that bleaches the sand.
You have found your home,
here in unexplored territory,
where the sea grass sings.
About this poem
I have lived in New England for nearly eight years now, but had never gone to Cap Cod until last March. A mountain man by nature (I thought), I had no real need for beaches. But I was wrong. I found my soul space there.
Now, if I could only figure out how to afford to live there……