In amongst the sirens and concrete,
cold as metal in the moonlight,
night after night
the sea would call to me.
Call me back home,
like a fog horn to
the lighthouse,
it shouted in the dark.
Crying that I finally come home.
Too long. Too long have I
tried to find mystery
in glass buildings.
Dig for treasure under
empty slabs.
The grey in this city is too much to bear,
too thick for my lungs
that have been clogged with
fogged eyes,
nameless souls.
This has been a sea.
A sea that has been slowly drowning me,
with wave after wave of mechanised sounds,
drilling, screwing plates of lead
into my ears.
But now it spits me out,
or I drag my body out of the water
as the queues and rows of closed windows,
doors, shrink into the background
and are replaced with
fresh living organisms,
in colour as opposed to shades.
The weight of the greyness lifting
as I run further down, towards the sea.
It calling to me, calling me home as the tides beat against stones,
pulsing through my chest,
salt water cleansing my lungs
and corroding metal plates.
Giving new life to weathered bones
as I am pulled out by welcoming hands,
held up before the waves roaring applause.
I am home, yes, I am home,
and now I can find my place
with the sea,
in the sea,
to the sea.
Danielle Gerrish
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-sea-4/
