The Ocean

This poem takes a metaphor and personifies it.

Sometimes I forget what I should call myself
When I am working in the darkness
Bringing death without a thought of it
Fearing the sinking that waits to bury me
At the bottom of a flowing current

I grab hold of your stone face
To remind myself that I have a name
Kiss those lips against the grit
And weep that I can't make you say it
The salt between us, can't you taste it

I remember all the lovers that I've had
That I've torn apart in storms of emotion
The apologies you jettison overboard
Do not abate the wrath that is in my wake
In this I know I'm the Great Destroyer

Unable to breathe, you must dream
And I tear the fabric of your being
As I drag sand across your skin
The tide rises to do my bidding
I pull back the pieces of erosion

The action of my love adorns you with
Presents of jetsam washed ashore
You wear my gifts, jewelry on your toes
Buried in the salted beaches I made
A chance for new existence grows
I call myself the Great Creator