Sometimes I long to belong to the sea, to be a vast, meaningful nothingness… that’s loved by a shore. I run away most times from no one but me, to be with the breeze, to be alone with the storm inside me. My smile has become a mask for a pain that has no face.
Sometimes I long to belong to someone, to linger in their every thought, to be their first thought before coffee and their last before blankets. To be their dream come true.
I’m a dreamer who’s found the kindest realities in dreams. My imagination has been heaven for my wounded soul. ‘Cause there I belong to me, and I’m at peace with me, and no labels are glued on me, and my face breathes free.
But I wake up every morning drowning in oxygen, and my voice travels for miles and miles as written words in a bottle, swimming to the feet of someone who longs to be the sea, to be a vast, meaningful nothingness that’s loved by anyone.
“Imagination is heaven for wounded souls.”
This poem is from my second poetry book: The Calligraphy of God
Jenim Dibie 