I have found my feet when I thought I had none.
Raised myself up from the depths like a slippery eel,
scales sticking to sand, matted seaweed crowning my head.
The years of waiting to be carried off by some great force,
those longed for arms the highest wave of all, they are no more.
Sailors did like to leer, even grope, reaching rough hands out to touch
me lithe as I swam beside their boats.
Many wrote my name upon their arm, promised to take me with them.
"Rescue me from my desire, oh take me to my desire",
that was my siren song.
I thought they would save me.
It was not that I was young:
I knew the wet satisfaction of other bodies
and remembered even love (there's a lot you can do with fins you know),
but the desire for what I did not have was oh so strong.
The joy of getting what I wanted,
of not knowing what that was.
I who was naïve and unbroken as a dreaming child,
with my slippery scales
and my seaweed crown.
I had to find my feet when I thought I had none.
Draw myself up onto the sharp pebbled shore, wash myself up like a whale,
so I could sit, blinking, in the hot sunlight.
No one had taught me how to survive this.
To be beached is not to be rescued.
It was all I could do to sit and splutter,
smile with the achievement that made me cry out with fear
of what I could become.
So I taught myself, or rather, I stumbled I sweated
I fell into myself, each time falling further,
crawling on my fleshy tail, slowly stretching muscles onto the land.
To expand and divide, to push forth with an urge for more,
the same propulsion that had
dragged me out of my ocean cocoon.
At first I could not abide the sight of grass,
that sickly rasping green
so different to the sweet fronds beneath clear water.
But anything was better than tarmac burns against my fins;
anything was better than the hollow prurient stares of passersby
as I scraped and rubbed,
flexed myself along dirty pavements
with my gills gaping and torn,
falling further into myself,
falling out of myself.
I stuck to the grass. I was so nude, I had to.
Slithering within it as a snake, sucking the water from dew drops.
Flexing and falling
flexing and falling,
as I tried to move like people do.
And so I began to enjoy the earth,
the flowers with their elegant sunfaces
kind water pulsing through veins within the soil.
My silvered tail began to itch.
I was changing.
It was with an inexplicable pleasure
that I looked down to see my flipper split in two,
in its place these misshapen fleshy stumps,
the tiny fins of each individual toe still flexing and flexing,
So here I find myself in my own landly home,
no longer hiding in the grass
but loving it freely
for I am no longer nude,
no longer unbroken like a child.
Clothed in experience I walk with an even stride,
two soft soles placed keenly against the ground.
Only the air of swooping grace
a reminder of my swimming days,
the ghost of a tail flickering in azure shadows.
To stand in long grass straight as a soldier,
look out over the cresting waves
of this golden meadow that blows its rhythm to the breeze,
this is enough
to offer freedom.
Alone as myself,
still alone but not so.
Who can be alone amongst all this fresh wonder unknown?
Growing fond of a certain ancient tree,
I move my feetly roots towards him.
The sea, via 1
Poem The Mermaid's Tail written by me for this post.
Vintage 1990s Silver See Through Dress: bought for me by a dear ex boyfriend from his sister's market stall in the 90s.
Turquoise Bikini underneath & Blue Flower Headband: very old from the high street.
Vintage 1970s Handmade Shell Bracelets: my mother's.
Vuntage 1990s Silver Handkerchief Dress: from a charity shop.
Blue Sandals: from a sale at Toast.
Cotton Parasol: from Ebay.
Vintage 1990s Blue Shawl: mine from the 90s.
Vintage 1970s Shell Bracelets: as above.
Vintage 1930s Brown Shot Satin Fish Tail Evening Gown: made by granny Kiki for her couture label Kiki Couture.
Black Heels: old from Hobbs.
Blue Necklace worn as headband: gift from a friend.
Tim Buckley: Siren Song
All beach photographs taken by my mother; photographs in my mother's incredible summer garden taken by me using the self timer; photographs of me in the 1930s evening gown taken by Mr Eve and by myself; all using my little digital camera.
I am delighted to be a part of the next Visible Monday, hosted by the lovely Patti from Not Dead Yet Style, click on the website link to see her outfit and those of many others.
Also linking up with lovely Jane 's Shiny T Tuesday link up, where the theme is The Ocean, click on the link The Flight Platform to see her outfit and others.