Underwater Stones

Searching for underwater stones by the beach

Leaving behind you
a sunken ripple,
you glide with
no-splash strokes,
against the pull of the ocean,
to rise afterwards in
water, knee-deep,
to lean against
an anchored boat,
to catch your breath,
and to pick underwater
stones
along the soggy beach.

Silence, a sentinel,
guarding your insides,
you tug at fanciful poems,
and browse through the stones’ quiet magic
for a clue in their wetness or
for the reflection of a face
you omit seeing
at times,
hence you think, maybe,
your fingers with
sea-wrinkled skin
have gathered some
wrong stones.

So, before another nor'easter hits,
you’d better stop
wading by the shore
and not let the current
get the best of you;
maybe, then, you'll risk
finding your place
in the world;
or else,
you’ll stay home
inside yourself
and a stone will still wear
your shadow.