Light on the Water
Published by Eunoia Review
Under the blue gold sky
I watch you swim underwater
through the still and see-through sea
slicing shards of turquoise light.
You burst the surface to meet me
shaking silver drops in dancing arches
some sticking shining to your black hair
others trickling tiny rivers down your chest.
I see how the sea makes way for your body
as if it has been waiting for you to arrive:
golden water moulding to meet muscle
light shedding light onto your august skin.
I always thought you were of another world
but you fit so perfectly in this one
you, at home in the sea, your water
your sanshin sun sliding low to sleep.
I watch, wishing the sea would wash
the chewy air from my sticky skin
sand and oil and legs now coiled with yours
almost close enough to taste your ease.
Still now there are moments I watch you
submerge into your secret sea
every bone, breath, cell belonging
to where I long to go. But I can only go
back to when we bounced buoyant
skin touching skin touching water
untangling to stride up the sugarcane shores
stopping to take photos of our shadows in the sand.
An extra note
*(The sanshin is an Okinawan folk instrument similar to a banjo.)
This is a love poem. It is also a poem about belonging - whether that’s belonging to a place or belonging to your own body. It was written after my first trip to Japan with my now-husband, where I was completely awed by everything around me being so different - and also at the same time captivated by his ease. It was the first time I had seen him on his home-turf, and I could see how naturally he belonged to the people, to the culture, to the land. But I also saw more clearly (which I had already noticed and still notice today) how easily he lives in his body, how naturally he interacts with the world, how comfortable he is in his own skin. As someone who rarely (if ever) feels any of these things, I was also awed by him (still am, sometimes!)
A final personal share - this moment on a deserted Okinawan beach was also the moment we decided to try for a family, and the Chinese characters associated with our daughter’s name (Aimi - 映海) translate as ‘reflection on the sea’.
So yes, this is a love poem :)