I used to be so scared of this place–

Its crumbling roars, lethal looking lace, and distaste for calm–

But now, I wither without it.

They say oceans carry negative ions and in our daily lives, we usually are only surrounded by positive ions, only compounding on each other:

ions that certainly charge but don’t enlighten,

until they visit the ocean and fall in love with the negative ions and they elope from us,

the sea air dizzying our balance because we are losing the molecular weight,

and being scrubbed clean, raw,

until all that is left inside of us is the breeze itself,

salt and sunshine slipping through nerves, veins, and muscles,

washing bones, until we can say we believe we are made of sea foam,

bubbling and frothing in the simple spirals of ionic love

and settling amongst the seagrass, shells and tide pools,

to float, to sleep, to dream.