My grandmother is the ocean now roaring always somewhere even when quiet here and now her smooth surface breaks into waves She resists and yields at once in magnitudinal power tides pulled heavy from the moon in consort with the sun and of service to the earth I know her without seeing her hear legends of her raging depth feeling her live in each coastal drop She swells around my ankles to let me feel my roots when instinct crashes over me It is her—urging moments into eternity
Sarah (she/her) is a health advocate, activist, and poet who loves sunshine, storms, and quiet nights. She is a queer Jewish reiki-practicing witch, and poetry is how she understands and misunderstands Life . Sarah has been published in Stain’d Arts and South Broadway Ghost Society publications, and her work has been featured by the Helen Riaboff Whiteley Center. Her two self-published books, I’ll just hide until it’s perfect and Tend, are available now by contacting firstname.lastname@example.org.