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A Straw Poem

In my spare times, I used to draw
My favorite would always be portraiture
Of faces I wish to remember
of teachers, friends and lovers.

In my busy times, I would still draw.

But lately...
whenever I put my pencil to paper
It turns into a straw
and the paper mellow to water
White and pure than never.
The more I gaze into it, the clearer is the color
It doesn’t ripple but begins to sparkle.

And, instead of me sucking for a drink
The water seems to expand at the brink
Rising like tides in the evening of the tsunami
Swallowing me into, instead of just water, now a sea
With my tongue and my hand
I taste the salt and the sand
Though my feet, I don’t know where they land.
I know it’s real. It is real.

And, the ocean breathes life to a figure
Who wears a face I used to draw
How I remember every curve and feature
Softer than flower, Stronger than power
Afar like history, Intimate like memory.

All at once, tears dance in the pool of my eyes
like skaters skidding at the ice rink,
instead of falling, I wink.
In a blink, it all gets to normal
I rub my hands against each other trying to unfeel the sand
I gaze to once water, now a paper
It is blank, perhaps forever.
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