So You Know

i am not used
to the water.
and at the gentlest
dash of waves
i stiffen and 
stumble; falling over
breathless, as broken sheets
of sea empty my toes
of muddy sand,
and i claw at the
seabed with all
my might to hold
up against the current.

once the
waves are gone,
and the new ones
swell at a distance,
i sit embedded on
the shore like a
washed-up water
weed, as my hands
form determined roots
into the yielding brown mud,
and a cluster of shells
in chalky hues
gather in my
clenched palm.

the new wave is a
frail one; it breaks
a long way from the
shore, and eddies of salt
rupture sunshine into
liquid rainbows under
my heels. i nonetheless
grip the beach harder,
digging my fingers deeper
into the bed, as a dozen
more shells press into my fist.

i vouch to bring them
home for you; something
from my marine odyssey.
so you know nothing
can shell your life, as long
as you wish to blossom.
so you know that life
can thrive in worst
captivations, as long
as you dare to endure.
so you know you aren't
ever powerless,
or inferior than any,
when a handful of
dead crustaceans
stuck between fingers,
can keep a human
from losing to the sea.

- sobhan