[Poetry] Four Poems by Katrina Kaye

Begin Again

begin with the ocean

the wet sand

hard underfoot

the waves seeping in

soft foam sticking

to ankles as

the water pulls us

soak in an

overcast day in

northern california

shirts untucked

gulls coasting

high above on a

salty chill

arms around chest

to secure warmth

notice toes

curling and uncurling

embedding small flakes of

broken down life

in the crevasses

between nail and skin

we can begin by observing this

small moment of time

as though it were everything

because at this moment

it is everything

we can begin by allowing

the wind to pull us forward

instead of letting the earth

hold us back

The other morning,

the lilac in the front yard was filled with tiny birds.

Their first feathers still poofing under new coasts;

all chirp and chatter in the excitement of learning to fly.

I watched them and their hurry; the exhilaration

of the new. What a lovely song.

There is no point to this story,

other than it made me momentarily happy.

The idea of capture and keepsake never crossed my mind.

There was no lust for ownership or some distortion of permanence.

No, this was just a twinkle;

                            a lost minute,

                                          slip of seconds,

            a glorious moment,

that ended quickly and forever.

The Ocean and The Jungle

This is not the first time

we radiate across the same room.

Not the first time,

I glance up only to notice your eye

chasing mine,

the same twist on both our lips

as though we share the joke.

The space of a whisper

separates our bodies,

yet I never dared

to reach for your dock,

to set my flag upon your beach.

I thought perhaps your

breath blew me back.

Now I realize,

I am sea,

you, land.

But you are no coastline.

My fingers will never lap

gently upon your shore.

You are jungle,

Amazon, Congo, Daintree.

Mile upon mile

of thick brush and green vines,

overgrown,

seeping into walls,

encompassing territory,

claiming continents as your own,

thousands of miles from my reach.

You are the green eyed leopard

stalking the shadows;

the camouflage anaconda

coiled on the limb.

You creep,

believing to be veiled in obscurity.

I am Ocean.

Spreading identity around earth,

oblivious to entrapment of soil and rock.

I am Charydbis

twisting mass to watery grave,

dark waves, white capped,

unblinking eyes,

over three rows of teeth.

I am Tsunami,

uninhibited in my aggression,

not afraid to throw myself at your coast.

Refusing to accept you are beyond reach.

On the new moon,

my tide rises into atmosphere

and parts of myself,

in the guise of drizzles and drops,

slip inside you.

Sideways glances and lingering breaths,

storm your deepest ravines,

providing small

suggestions of my body

dripping over your outstretched palms.

You feast on me,

ravishing, consuming,

taking what you need to strive,

then you drain me out

and send me running home.

In lingering humidity,

you wait

for me to fall on you again.

I used to wonder why

I could only surround your mass

and never truly entwine you.

Now I know,

we have already bathed in each other

for a lifetime.

The Forest

Our crowns lost their jewels

in the last days of October,

scattering red and gold

from heaven to earth

and everywhere in between

to blanket overgrown roots.

But our heartwoods out measures

the sapwood by multitude,

and our trunks have become stable

thick and knotted around midrib.

No longer lean or smooth,

        but sturdy

tough skinned,

holding the nicks and gnashes

of more passing seasons,

the bleaching of the sun,

and the freezing of tips.

The canopies we bloomed

to shade our earth have become

thinner and thinner each year:

patchy,

        holes of sunlight break through,

We have become womb to wildlife.

We hold the nest safe

from the reach of prey,

and though our skin may be marked,

tattooed, stretched,

though they contain wounds and rot,

so much more than rind remains.

We remain.

We are not

pathetic creatures,

even if we no longer have

the pliable limbs of our youth

and our leaves no longer

reflourish in the spring.

There is no weakness here

and the twisting to roots

that tangle like serpents

after their own tails and limbs

contorted by patches of decay

create a display of ancient brilliance.

We are true and long lived and wise.

We are radiate.

Katrina Kaye is a writer and educator living in Albuquerque, NM. She hoards her published writings on her website poetkatrinakaye.com and is seeking an audience for her ever-growing surplus of poetic meanderings. She is grateful to anyone who reads her work and in awe of those willing to share it.