We rise, suspended, off Nanakuli beach,
tiny dots buoyed by water and salt
on great slow swells.
They rise and fall,
carry us in a rhythm
larger than memory or imagination.
We trust because we cannot understand.
We fall, suspended, surrender our
selves to primal powers,
first forces our shared animal hearts
remember from before we existed.
We float, suspended still, calm
in the ecstasy of being.
Some time or no time later,
we crawl out of sea onto sand.
It reminds us now
how gravity anchors us to earth.
Only recently, I learned that whales and dolphins
had risen from the sea with our shared ancient kin,
then changed their minds and their
selves and returned home.
We, returned to land,
not suspended but grounded,
pack up our gear and
talk about what we want
for dinner
as we walk off Nanakuli beach.
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