Masika

Masika.

Born during rain.

A water child.

Masika.

The word the fishermen whisper

As they open bleary eyes to an ocean still in slumber.

The word the moon calls.

Singing its symphony over the watery expanse.

Masika.

The water that finds its way back to its home.

Its home in the depths.

You cross your legs, hook foot around ankle.

Delicate chin, rests on porcelain hand.

Your hands are as calm as the sea.

What is your name, I ask.

Question mark.

Breakable.

I see your eyes for the first time.

Tell me.

Masika.

'What do you want to know.'

Question mark.

Your life.

Your heartbeat.

The warmth of your blood.

The inside of your eyelids.

Everything.

Your father was a fisherman, you say.

Like that was enough.

It was always enough.

What are you thinking, I ask.

Question mark.

'You sigh after the moon.

It lives in your skin', you say.

'Will you follow me', I wonder.

Question mark.

No one will know.

When you were younger they said your father had gone to the seaside.

He had not.

Your priest wrote ‘Noyade’ onto his grave.

Your mother wrote liquor onto the inside of her consciousness.

You wrote cigarette burns into your hands.

You were nine.

We are always writing the secrets we will never share.

Masika.

When I say your name, I do not think of mountains.

I do not think of the earthy hollows where I found my childhood

You know not of that innocence

For yours was stolen,

Wasn’t it.

Question mark.

Who could take the heart of a child, I ask.

Question mark.

I look into your depths.

The sky. The sea birds. The sailors. The fishermen.

La Mar.

You say. The old man and the sea.

Such a poetic way of describing something so tragic.

Is there a word for the sound of my weeping heart?

You ask.

Question mark.

If there was I would have said it.

Masika.

How do you pronounce it.

Question mark.

Two syllables and a sigh.

The kind that you give when you feel most alone.

When do you feel most alone.

You ask me.

Question mark.

Around others.

Is there a word for how a stranger can steal your breath,

Before they utter a word.

Question mark.

Your eyes stole mine.

Masika.

She is the sea.

Born during rain, she was swept away with the floods.

Found in the depths of the ocean.

Her fingernails are blue.

Her eyes are green.

Masika.

What is left of you in the drought.

Question mark.

My heart.

I am the moon, Masika.

Will you follow me.

Question mark.

Masika.

Child of the storm.

Your mouth is like the waves.

Kissing the shoreline

My light will lead you home.

Each of us has a story to tell that will never be told.

A story that will never feel the embrace of paper.

You hide in your books, don’t you.

Question mark.

They breathe, don’t you know.

Question mark.

They all have lives of their own.

All have lies of their own.

Masika.

I want to write a symphony full of all the silences our conversations ever held.

The haunting refrain of rain.

Finding its home in your depths.

Masika.

You are the heart inside the oceans song.

The tune fishermen will sing.

As they grieve the loss of their comrades.

Masika.

Masika.

What do you find in those watery pages.

Question mark.

Solidarity.

You build it into cities,

Shape it into towers.

A kingdom made on the backs of the places you hide.

A kingdom set on the backs of the seas.

How long will it take you drown.

Question mark.

How many separate lungs does a piece of paper have.

Question mark.

Not enough to keep me alive.

Masika.

You once told me I feel too much.

I said so does the moon.

That’s why the oceans are drawn to it.

You see, I never meant to need you.

Never did I intend to rely on you so thoroughly

Like your lungs do

Of your breath as you sleep, rising and falling softly in your chest.

When you sleep I think you

Forget

The feeling that your breath has been stolen

Like your breath had been stolen.

Masika.

As you slumber, you spit me out.

Entwined with your breath

From resting in your lungs.

So out I will spill.

Out.

Out, damned spot, out.

Like the breath that falls from those sleeping lips.

Like the sorrow you hide amongst the pages of your kingdom.

Amongst the waves, what secrets do you keep.

Question mark.

Masika.

Made of rain.

Your kingdom is an ocean.

Your rule is that of tears.

Did you know I found solstice in your lungs.

Question mark.

The longest day I had ever known

Yet still the shortest I could spend with you.

Masika.

You never did have a childhood, did you.

Question mark.

Where did your past go,

Masika.

Question mark.

Into the rivers, the coursing floods of the books you read.

You look at me.

From your mouth spills the waves of what you will to be truth.

Commanding the lake to rise.

Sweep away the ashes of the past.

They have lives of their own, you know.

So do you.

Come here, I say.

But I am afraid.

Afraid of what.

Question mark.

Of what you may find.

She looks at me.

Did you know her eyes are like oceans.

Each time I look at her, I am afraid I might drown in their depths.

To never be seen again.

Let me drown.

Masika.

The lore and language of the sea.

The word fishermen whisper as the tide rises after a storm.

The word my heart cries as her tide sweeps me away.

Masika.

I was always alone.

Always alone.

Even in crowds, I was always apart.

Masika.

Where do you go,

Where are your oceans

When your eyes shut behind you.

Question mark.

To your city of books.

Question mark.

I’ll follow you there.

Masika.

I call to you.

Where are you going.

Question mark.

Anywhere.

Where did you come from.

Question mark.

Every place I’ve ever been.

Masika.

This is my catharsis.

The solstice of your heart

Walking shin-deep through your city, on its way to drowning.

The tide of your sorrow rises.

I once believed I could pull it away from you

Like the moon leads the oceans in celestial dance

But yours are made of lead

And as the water rises

You breathe in everything you could never release.

Masika.

You are the oceans

The word fishermen whisper

As the tide falls away

Finding its path after the moon.

Masika.

The word my heart cries

As your eyes engulf my being.

Masika.