My toddler steps, I hesitated on her shores with stops,
I sat down tired: she sprayed me with cool drops,
Made me laugh with her babble light,
I picked up courage,stood straight,
In heat, barefoot, I ran- seeking cover for my heel,
She sent waters to cool my feet with cold feel.
I made unseemly face and turned my lips curly,
She laughed ,opened her box of bubbles tiny,
Said that I should prattle but never cry,
I learned to draw: my fingers scribbled sands in strains,
Drew horses, camels, the world as I saw: all on her grains
I learned alphabet:
Wrote my name on her granule slate,
Writing was unfettered, fun-typed,
My writ, to clean with water she wiped,
Urged me to redraft .
On her twirls, I built castles dreamt,
I waded the fiord, ate fish food,
Laughed in the catamaran, hid,
She foamed stories to entice, to find,
I heard her whisper despite the wind.
I constructed paper boats,
Floated them with flute notes,
She carried them to dream countries away.
I yearned to count amidst the blue bells,
She dived deep and brought shells,
Murmured that I should count the ebb and swell,
Patterns they weave as they fall and stall.
I send messages of love-
In capped bottle, a treasure trove,
She wafted them to faraway continent,
Taught me to await response, be patient.
At the estuary, she told me that life is fresh and salty,
She absorbed torrent flow from the mountain mighty,
The Amazonian rivers flow into her in a rush to dissipate.
The Sea lies below all.
Humble.
Vast.
A recipient of pollution.
storiesofmigrant 