Your eyes
are the sky with clouds
toying with rain
and dancing with the sun.
Your blues
are great lakes
reflecting light and
hiding the depths.
The ocean plays this game
before dusk, in the afternoon:
she fools you into the comfort
of a washed tone with sheets
of silver, masking the blue
that could swallow the lands
whole if it wanted to.
People rarely see beneath
the surface of anything
if it’s not on display
behind clear glass or
in bright light.
But I see in twilight
and your waters call me
to be selkie. Your silk
and satin-soft horizons
approach the edges of ice
you sculpted into
the mountains of your soul,
the same edges
who also sculpted you.
All this coolness
is deceptive to those
who never dove or flew;
To those who don’t know
how to breathe under water,
or at extremely high
altitudes.
And don’t think I don’t know
how strong currents and winds
can get. I’ve been praying
and bowing to them all my life,
and I know their strength.
Their might can meet
the fiercest fire: waters
can dowse and winds
can feed it.
Yes, my love, my storm
puts me out when I need
to cool down, and my dragon
is breathing me back when
I’m nearly expired.
And I reach towards your peaks
like I’ve trained all my life
to hike the Himalayas,
because the monks and sages
are chanting Nirvana
in your eyes.
And I descend myself, gentle
and slow, into your depths,
like a scuba diver for David
Attenborough in Blue Planet
because they haven’t found
Atlantis yet,
and I know where it is.
You are that
old magic, and the new.
And all the seas and skies,
all the lands and flames,
can’t imagine that light
born from another world
and finding it’s way
on Earth.
You call the forces
of nature together
and stand with them,
in their danger
and in their majesty.
You wield your wand
with them, with paint
on the tip – colors
speaking worlds
into form.
I’m lucky to have eyes
to see the worlds
you came from,
and the worlds you are
bringing through.
And I am fortunate
to have been shaped
in kind, and made
to be able to go
where you go.
And if it gets too cold
in deep waters, I know
you can get through,
(like you always do).
But maybe if you just
lend me the wind
with a breath, I can
be your hearth fire,
and tend you;
Because fire and ice
each have their place when
there are worlds to make,
and a home.
Copyright © 2018, Sheyorah Aossi
All rights reserved.
Creature Speak 
2 responses to “My Elemental”
Your piece just took me on trip . Good one.
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Thank you, kindly! Wasn’t sure it would land so that’s nice to hear!
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