Sister Sirens
Sometimes, a person comes along,
and I recognize them by their fish scales.
Shiny,
sparkling things
full of magic.
It’s how I recognized you.
You gazed at me
from beneath salted lashes,
a sea alive in your eyes,
stories swimming in their depths.
We are born of that sea,
you and I.
Shoals of hope.
We sing the language of sirens.
Sisters.
Witches of words.
Our hearts are tender things,
not meant for the two-legged world
of brash lights and constraining demands.
We are meant to ride waves.
We are meant to buoy the drowning.
We are meant for deep dives.
Finding pearls.
Sunken cities.
Lost species.
When we return to the surface,
we give them our treasures,
combed from the ocean floor.
We risked riptides,
barracudas,
and tsunamis
to drag them ashore.
We present them with innocence,
paddling the coastline.
Their acceptance ebbs and flows.
Sometimes, they are harbor cruises,
pointing and applauding.
Sometimes, they are trawlers,
exploitation poised on hooked lines.
Sometimes, they are whaleboats,
harpoon cannons ready to fire.
And sometimes
the two-legged world
doesn’t see us at all,
and, as lochs of the sea,
that hurts.
We expect our embrace
to be welcomed,
not criticized.
Revered,
not rejected.
Noticed,
not unseen.
But I need you to know,
I hear you,
my siren sister.
You enchant me,
swishing your mermaid tail,
washing fairytales
to the shores of my heart.
Continue your
quiet swim
along seaways,
catching currents,
riding the open ocean.
Born of seafoam,
you are a seashell
sounding
for whoever delights
in picking you up.
I hope “Sister Sirens” reminds you of your magical mission and that our creative spirits are stronger than the currents we may face.
What mermaid dreams swim through your mind? What songs do you hear in the shells you hold to your ear? Share your ocean-inspired whispers in the comments below…