On Dry Land

Cocoa too hot to the touch

As shocking to the fingertips

as the cold tabletop is to naked wrists.

The tactile sensations of life,

intruding into my numbed psyche

reminding me that I’m still alive.

Stealing my thoughts back to

the rhythms of a material world of flesh and metal and breath,

causing alternating ripples of awe and heartbreak,

nausea and wonder.

When life shifts so quickly

as though your soul were suddenly thrust from it’s moorings

in time and space

and abruptly deposited in someone else’s existence

It stuns.

I look around at this new world,

at all the familiar things that suddenly seem distant

or somehow unrelated to me.

A laugh from the couple at the next table.

The shadow on the cafe wall that moves slightly with the night breeze.

And it’s so easy to see the cord that connects death to birth,

that palpable ebb and flow that creates the tides of life itself.

At the moment, I don’t feel a part of that rhythm,

I have become other, an observer, standing on the docks

But watching it all is a small gift,

to simply know that it’s still there,

that the dance continues.

About The Sterling LIne

Where does art end and life begin? I don't really see a distinction, but I try to consciously live each moment with enthusiasm, following inspiration where it leads, being open to possibilities and exploring the boundaries of myself, the world I live in and those I meet. Though I attempt to tread softly and respectfully, I often get clumsy, carried away with enthusiasm ... Woman, artist, force of nature and mother... Lives in the SF Bay Area.
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