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Poem from:

Liveaboard by Emily Wall

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Grace Harbor, Desolation Sound

Wall, Emily

When we wake the next morning
and look over the side to check the anchor:

jellies, jellies, jellies! 
The water around us is a thick carpet

of moon jellies, each little orb pulsing,
rising and falling in the tide swell.

Even though we know better, we canít help
stretching out our hands, reaching down.

Who could resist touching the moon,
if it came down, in its thousand little bodies,

and surrounded us?  Sometimes we need
to be chosen.  Sometimes, we need for belief

to be out of our hands. 


Copyright © Emily Wall 2012

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