Female Friendship

There are some friends who grow with you until you both grow apart.
There are some friends whose path you cross once and never meet again.
There are some friends who will lead the charge into drunken shenanigans.

This is a letter to one of my greatest friends, who is none of the above.
If you don't understand, good. You don't have to.
--

Florida Is Not Indonesia:

           where you have blessed

                                

Caramelizing skin in a hot southern sun,

sand like sugar crystals on bare feet

pacing slowly with great purpose

Under the omniscient eyes of her Father,

loving others as she has been loved by Him.

Poised and vivacious laughter spilling from the same lips

as speak encouragement to wayfaring hearts

and comfort to salt-streaked eyes.

Calloused souls massaged and manicured

by a collective sense of peace.

Ask of her nothing. She already gives freely

and gift her your time to be rewarded twice over.

Wit, tenor, charity, true

Kismet drawn, and bound by greatness

to travel with grace to the least of these.

Endings are bittersweet, a chocolate best found in cookies

which there are sure to be a lot of.

Her sweet tooth is as bad as mine.

So I ask of the universe, could one have been sent a better friend?

Sea Sickness

I haven't put up any poetry in a while.  Here's a piece I wrote while in the Galapagos Islands.  Enjoy!
                               ~                 ~               ~                ~                    ~

Sea Sickness

A forty foot yacht plows through the broken gray sea while I, inside, contemplate the contents of my stomach.

It’s interesting,

I think through my increasing discomfort,

how unpredictable the sea is.

She is like a Goddess.

Her depths are unknowable

but just as we forget about them she reveals evidence

of Her wonder,

            a dolphin springing playfully up to say hello to the sun;

of Her wrath,

            half of a ship, its masts catching the deep currents, sails on eternally with its skeleton crew tangled in the rigging;

of Her mercy,

            feeding the birds of the sky, the hunters of the ocean, the people of the land with Her bounty.

How is it possible for me to feel so sick upon the sea that God made;

where He loves Her so much that He bends down

uninterrupted

at every horizon to kiss Her?

The absence of wind has turned the whole ocean into a mirror

and the Goddess now reflects upon me and my tiny boat.

Her curiosity springs forth in the form of hundreds of flying fish,

the school skittering across the water in swift silver flashes.

My presence is permitted and a brisk breeze sends me on my way.

In my gratitude, I vomit over the stern and,

In a sort of sardonic salute,

Wipe my mouth and send a prayer ahead towards my horizon,

Where God meets Goddess,

Where I meet my future.