Encounters

Itanhaem/SP, Brazil

My first spiritual encounter with the sea was 

in Kent one grey morning, we walked 

side by side down the shore in silence, 

you allowed me space to process its hugeness,
my smallness. 

My first physical encounter

with the sea was in Itanhaem

this week, one grey morning, 

you watched me from a spot 

in the middle of the vast blue

I watched you, 

a wave,

come into being and die,

come into being and die noisily, 

repeatedly.

Repeatedly
I came into being
and died
calmly
with you.

A shard shared

(Tiete bus station, São Paulo/SP)

There is a word
for every face in the crowd

a reason, a story
he teaches me to imagine

so I can move among them
and be not afraid of them,

so they can't hurt me but
can still change me.

(In response to this poem)