Sunday, February 8, 2015

Seascape (Waking Dream)

by Kat Comer

     Resting in my palm is a piece of broken shell. My thumb caresses its porcelain underside as my fingers explore its serrated edges. I lose myself in the pattern of shifting storm clouds on its surface. The sky moves in my hand, mirror image of the shifting sky above me.

     Bits of shell are burrowed in the sand, their scalloped surface broken again and again by the violent rush of the sea. But now the water is calm like the intaken and expelled breath of a meditation. The waves' approach and retreat follow their own rhythm, alternately inviting and sonorous.


"Spirit & Life" by Tom Fleming
     I stand at the edge of two worlds, amphibian, belonging exclusively to neither, penetrating both. I watch as the sun disappears into the horizon and sinks in slow motion to the bottom of the sea, its flames extinguished and its heat cooled until once again it will rise, burning from the water. The sun's heat glows inside my belly, responding to the dying warmth outside me. I am pregnant with light, and each step into the vast, rolling sea pulls me deeper into mystery. My skin melts in the slow rise and fall of waves that carry me further and further into an aquatic world where fishes lift skyward in curls that arc above my head. And like a sea otter, I dive again and again as each approaching wave brings me closer to a world of silence so thick it is deafening. I lose my identity as my body spirals downward and becomes one with a school of baby fish that moves in a dense hypnotic spin of interlocking threads. I rest in the slow monotony of movement for I, too, have gills and can sustain this primeval dance. I am Thetis, sea nymph, taking the shape of that which I desire. Leaving the ring, I shoot upward into air, my tongue steeped in brine.

     And just as the sun gives its flames to the sea, the moon pours its milk upon its surface. Moving ribbons of light stretch across an infinite plain where sea and sky are one unbroken whole and fishes swim upside down in the heavens.

     I dive again into an explosion of color, am awash in sealight, immersed in a dense population of fish, a curtain of moving shapes that parts to let me through. I feel as though I've swallowed the sun, am transformed into a disc of light. My body undulates and glides. An abrupt twist of my fins and I am propelled in a new direction. I glide through a kaleidoscopic seascape of tiger, leopard and sun fish.

     My world is topsy-turvy. Fishes swim in sky and water, and stars line the ocean floor. One particularly radiant star pulls me into its center. I am woven in a nexus of cobalt blue, spinning in a mandala of light and color, a whirling dervish, startling in my intensity. Spinning and alive. Gradually, the velocity of my spins lessens. I must surface and drink the semen rich fluid of the moon, allow its cleansing milk to wash my skin before I swim to shore and rise from the water with dawn.