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Out From Her Shore

written by: Eli Garcia

 

She looked out from her shore,
and felt what one feels
when one feels,
by the sea.

Pulled roots and heaved,
one last drift again,
from far west,
to old.

Found herself on the high desert,
thin air so clearly an ocean
washed gently through
deep open spaces.

The land became her,
she breathed deep,
and stretched,
and dove.

And the sky became her ocean,
white froth atop blue
endless and ever,
and ever anew.

She danced with far horizons,
and felt what one feels,
when one feels
by the sea.

Eli Garcia

Eli Garcia

I live reluctantly in Southern California where I alternately celebrate and dread the slow but constant change that becomes so much more pronounced in my life the older I get. My family includes my wife, who is my light and my storm, and my new daughter, who continues to surprise me daily with both her existence and her ability to stretch my capacity for love, and for terror, into previously unimagined territory. I occasionally garden, which I’ve learned to treat as a study in controlled chaos, only without the control. So, my life, like most, is generally full of hopes and dreams, successes and failures, aspirations, trial and error, peeves, inspiration, ignoring of mortality, doing stuff, not doing stuff, and occasionally standing in the backyard gobbling radish pods off the bush with my very excited toddler. A pebble on a beach with billions of other pebbles. Sometimes I write.
Eli Garcia

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