Ode to the Pacific
A Tale by Johnny Irish
"I remember a period in time; a life setting decision was made, to move along the coast. From the humid summers of Illinois, to the drenching winters of Oregon. Away from green grass and fresh air, smack into the middle of the sea. Digging my toes for the first time beneath sand; eyes gazing across open water. From a distance, it reflected the sky, like God put a mirror on Earth's surface. Gray clouds and rain that resembled static, as if the scenery was of classic venue."
Spent days in and nights out,
amazed by that ocean breeze.
Buried myself in graves on the beach,
skipped rocks across the sea.
Too afraid of the waves,
or the creatures hiding beneath.
Five years too young
to swim in such dangers alone.
Warned of the tides,
and temperatures that freeze one's bones.
Tip-toe about ankle high;
before I realise it's as cold as ice,
and best to head home.
Someday I'll be strong enough,
I'll sit in Trident's throne...
and rule that Pacific ocean.
I've read tales of beasts,
ferocious and a hundred feet.
Some with tentacles,
others with rows of razor-sharp teeth.
Sharks, squids, whales and more,
unknown titans along the ocean floor.
Fish with light, seahorses that dance,
breathing jelly stranded on the shore.
I've heard of monsters,
that attack ships and swimmers.
Eat children like a side meal for dinner.
Lurking in the darkness,
waiting for that right time to strike.
A surfer rides a wave,
and finds himself engulfed in a single bite.
I'm old enough to understand,
the difference between truth and myth.
Even if those stories I've heard,
gave me the imagination of a poet.
I'd swim late at night,
and pretend to ride a dolphin.
Dive down with the fish,
and come up without a problem.
A mermaid of sorts in the marine life,
a place so perfect, just the pacific and I.
Now I sit here, a guardian of the sea,
knowing my ocean will be there in the morning.
