After Li-Young Lee

She aches,
and I believe
it is for the ocean.

She talks,
her voice is
the shape of Time.

She walks,
her path of stones
the years unfolded in her wake.

She sleeps,
and her sleep becomes the ocean
a flooded dreamland where change is a tide.

She wakes,
there is no light
that isn’t in her already.

She is the ocean,
my life is the sea.