on moving away

this Island has a heartbeat:

waves lapping against my boots,

gentle as they slide over my shins.

I feel her heart pound and it

reminds me how babies love

being patted because it

reminds them of the womb.

dark October sky above me,

I sink into this feeling, let my breath

match her current’s strength,

slow and subtle this late at night.

“someday I hope to return,”

I tell her, and in the meantime

I’ll remember where I came from,

how it felt to be held by this Island.