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Human Sea
by Max Bouillet"There are nearly 6.5 billion people on Earth;
each one of our bodies carries roughly ten gallons of water.
We are a living ocean."
Our essence is wet.
There is an ocean inside
our fragile frames;
it courses through us,
connects us,
and laps against our foundation.
We are merely shores
on which common waves break
--barely contained puddles
with leaky souls.
Navigation to foreign coasts
is a hazard seldom attempted
and rarely attained.
When we dream,
we wade into familiar waters
that have passed
through billions of souls
and float in unison
with strangers
temporarily disregarding
corporeality.
We swallow and are swallowed
thinking ancient thoughts
and forgetting ourselves
until we wade back to shore,
dry off,
and go back to the house
with two oval windows. 11/07/2006 Posted on 11/07/2006
Copyright © 2024 Max Bouillet
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/07/06 at 06:04 PM Quite an excellent and unique analogy. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/07/06 at 07:50 PM I agree with "Q". "We are merely shores
on which common waves break
--barely contained puddles
with leaky souls." Such creative lines, all of this.
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| Posted by Don Coffman on 11/09/06 at 01:53 PM A unique approach to illustrate human commonality and unity. My interpretation is colored by my own recent philosophizing, but I do sense a background theme about our anonymity in the 'sea' at odds with the need to appreciate our place there. Quite nicely done overall, never a lack of mental threads to contemplate here! |
| Posted by Rachelle Howe on 11/11/06 at 06:55 PM You are just too good! Seriously. This has (not to be pun-ish) a great ebb and flow. Priceless. |
| Posted by Ginette T Belle on 12/01/06 at 02:21 AM wow, that was beautifully written, and you chose your words very carefully or so it seems...i truly loved this |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 12/17/06 at 12:21 AM Breathtaking. Stunning imagery and fantastic ending. I am not usually in such awe. But this feels the way my own poems do to me... (that is a compliment, as I feel them so strongly... I am sure you yourself would rarely say that, and rightly so). When one feels the workings of the poetic mind so clearly and intimately and it is another's poem one wonders--am I dreaming? (and so one of the points of this poem ) or awake? and so... the rarely attained--(another of the points). |
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