the boat

breathing, it's like breathing.
the moon gently rocking by the window, from one side to the other just to linger for a moment at the very far left side and then hesitatingly coming back, like on a rolling wave, accompanied by her love, the evening star.
it's the boat rocking and it's the waves murmuring and it's the dolphins playing with me in the waves.

the lagoon is very quiet. only the wind sings in my hair. it is late afternoon and i want to melt into the sand, just be, just breathe for a minute. after one week, finally, i feel the land. i started arriving when i climbed the steep mountainside with my worn flip flops, thorns in my calluses, red dust in my lungs, hands trying to cling to the dissolving rocks, trying to get to the top. and then, finally, the view, the omega round in all shades of green and blue, the red striped rocks and the cactus. the essence of being defensive in a world that is bare and bleak. goats, hiding in the mountains, salt lakes simmering in the heat. a thousand year old turtle slowly paddeling through the breeze.
the essence of beautifully surviving it is.

sometimes things are so hard to grasp. so hard to accept into your reality. you breathe it in, and in the next moment you find yourself back in some lousy lobby of a run down airport. staring at tanned pilots, a white woman in white clothes and a wide white hat and pitch black sunglasses. the epitom of a first lady, of some rich guy, with her lovely children at her hands, elegant, graceful, rich, a pigeon holed image of someone she is, she is not, a life that is so surreal that it lays clam and relentless like a second skin on your clothes.

the joys of wave running with dolphins gliding through the turqoise riddled salty sea, of surfing behind a roaring motor boat or just jumping off the deck in sheer leisure, the joys of spending hours picking shells, turning them into beautiful jewelry, eating well without cooking nor doing dishes, the joys of watching a movie in a dark star spangled night, or watching a naked woman on another rich man's 'boat'...are enjoyable for a second and then they are worn, sucked dry, aus, vorbei.


but the rocking motion, it stays, it sways us into sleep
it's the boat
breathing

tbc