Oceanic Inheritance

Belongs to a future book of poetry.

My mother says I came from the sea,

A place of overwhelming calm and

Crystalline waters.

 

She peers into my round face

And feels the tug of Bethany’s coast:

A promise of Paradise and power.

Forget the biblical meaning,

The definition by men, she cautions,

Nothing good ever comes from poverty and affliction

As a namesake.

 

Dry sand curls bounce as she brushes.

She can still smell the salt of the air and

hear the charge of gulls over a French fry on the surf’s edge.

She sets her sights on salvation.

Sea-glass eyes-- a mirror of the Atlantic.

Author's Note

All criticism welcome.

Reviews

[Gaia Octavia]

Very good imagery in your poem. I'm not sure if you meant to have two quotation marks in the last line or if if it's just a stray typo. Just thought I'd give you a heads up on it since it takes a fresh set of eyes to catch those things sometimes. I particularly liked the overall theme as well as the imagery of "dry sand curls." Well done.

[BCsomay]

Thank you! Yes, for some reason when I uploaded the poem, the dash turned into quotation marks. I best fix that. I'm glad you enjoyed the imagery.