To the Mediterranean Sea,

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There is nowhere I feel more myself then in your glassy folds, reflecting sunlight on a bright June morning.

I am your daughter.

There in the middle of the planet, in between two worlds, I feel your strength and your ease. Like the comfort a child feels when they hear their mother’s call, I feel at home when I hear your waves crashing around me.

You are majestic, but we wouldn’t know by how peaceful you look from atop. It’s funny how I always seem to come back to you at the end of the season. Your inviting waters provide the freedom from everything I’ve left. I could lay on your shores and listen to your roar hour after hour, day after day into eternity. This is my ode to you, oh sea.

Like the bee who collects nectar from the honeysuckle flowers, you sweeten my mind with words to write and rhythms to play. It’s not curious at all that such a force could make me feel so alive. If could I would sail your waves forever in that little sailboat of mine.

There’s something about going back to you that makes me feel like I’m coming into my own. Maybe it’s something that has to do with my skin bronzing to it’s natural olive underneath your scintillating sun. Maybe it’s the blue in your waters that light my eyes into icy green flames. Probably, it’s your salty mist that tangles my hair into uncontrollable waves.

I think it’s your magic. I always comment as I cross your waters near dusk that I hear voices in the distance and something calling from the water. I joke that it must be the Odysseus’s sirens calling from the little alcoves, but I know I shouldn’t joke. There is definitely music, and if you listen close enough, it will spontaneously begin to play underneath your waves.

Yearning for you,

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