The Ocean Is A Mighty Whore
The is no other place that compares to the ocean. Her power over man’s elation bonds the soul to her majestic beauty. I bonded shortly after learning to walk to her shorelines. My all-time favourite place for solitude being “Saint’s Rest”. A stretch of beach on the Bay of Fundy, west of Saint John, New Brunswick. Where from the age of six, I would often disappear to when I runaway from yet one more foster home. In latter teenage years, I would take pilgrimages to her mighty shores. Hoping there to find solace and solitude . There, amongst the songs of crashing waves. Listening to their rhythmic heartbeats. Her songs of serenity. With eyes closed, my body swaying, Siren’s songs whispering, Carried upon salt scented winds, Far within seaside caverns. Standing in shame guilted Broken promise like a flower wilted I left home 45 years ago. Reasons I still not know. Betraying an oath of devotion Long ago sworn to that ocean Never to return. Forever to miss the rhythm of cascading waves...