Calypso Deep

I have that wandering soul,
You’ll never know, how much I love to hold on a feeling so dear
It burns me like a fever
I have that soul that roams.
It gathers no moss but weighs a ton.
I have that soul immersed in the waters of the breathing sea, I never loved waters as much as I love this sea with all my being, the only home my gypsy wandering soul can claim. Oh how much I try to hold on that fever that stings me.
My dry mouth, my thick saliva in the hot Mediterranean summer. I can never love such a heatwave as much as I do this one. The people on their balconies and their verandas shouting underneath the sound of dice and draughts.
I move with the checkers, I move with the stones, I move with the men.
I move.
Like the sea that breathes.

Once the cicadas start singing so does my heart.
I will always be that child climbing the pines to catch them and my palms, my arms and legs will be filled with scratches and resin. Oh the smell of that resin, perfumed me, baptized me the lover of midsummer breeze from the cool sea to a land in heat.

I have that soul that wanders on deck when schools of swallows leap as my bow reaches them fast on a stern wind and I feel so privileged.

Shh! the wind whispers: These waves lament a loss of hers so great and she is so many of them.

Such is my hunger for more of those times under the shade of a lemon tree. The fat drops of rain on my head, sweet tears of a magnificent sky, volcanoes on that lava glass body, this is not a sea it is a uterus, it gave birth to my soul. My tormented wandering gypsy soul that was kept in the cold too long, to no avail. Was beaten with sticks and stones, attacked with mortar, every single day attacked and clawed, mauled. You fuckers, every single day, to no avail. Because I am more, I am giant, the child of Between Lands raised in the Calypso Deep. My bare feet walked on the belly of my mother, my toes were anointed with her blood, my hands held tight on the sands of these shores created by the bones of my kin, my skin was etched by the hot pebbles made of her mid-day cries for me.

I am giant, the son of the Hinder Sea, she is not a sea, she is a uterus, I was born and raised in the Calypso Deep.

When she is calm,
Oh when she is calm,
I have this quiver right here, like a migrating bird I feel the need to wander. I get that need to walk the roads and sail the seas.
But she is home,
she is all,
she is me