Turning Poem by Nancy Nielson

My quiet tears soon mix with ocean spray
as waves curl round my feet and I must turn
and inland set my face for home again.

The turquoise waves, or green, or deep sky blue
are mesmerizing with their brilliant hues;
yet one more time I tear myself away.

It matters not which ocean I forsake;
my loss, unbidden, rises from my depths
and eddies round, constricting every breath.

Each turning, like the tide’s own ebb and flow,
awash with joy and sorrow intermixed
exposes me to sand and air and sun.

Each leaves me naked, tossed upon the beach,
then sifts and clarifies my deepest need—
without a word, without a conscious thought.

July 2014