The Sea, The Sea

Wherever I go, there is
a crushing past waiting
handing me that memory like a loyal servant.
When I stared into the cold whiteness of the wave
forgiveness visited like a lame shiver.
The old you still waiting, and the new you
escaped birth.
That undying swell dissipated
by the shallowness of me.

She was part of the ocean
part of the black rain
and the linkage between
me and the receiving end.
Her lost memories
are what make the ocean salty.
All the buried love ones built the tunnel
and she who stands above them
leaks into the sea all the time.

So only the believers say:
I must remember this
I shall remember her and him and the togetherness in me
And we, we beg the ocean
to give back that understanding
of what was too much to feel.
Did we loved too excessively
or love the wrong things?

Forgiveness is also the first punishment
delivered by the foreign hands
that, too, bleed sometimes.
Yet to a freshly dried land-being
we don’t live there.
All is in vain.
All in vain are the oceans.