In the summer of 2012 I went sailing with my son and his family in France. I was terrified I’d get seasick, or worse, drown. Instead, it was a magical few days I’ll always treasure.
rested upon the catamaran’s net,
sea sinking below, sky rising above,
eyes straining for a glimpse of sea life,
perhaps one of the sharks
I was assured lived elsewhere,
but I knew better.
We passed the concrete city,
La Grande Motte, white
pyramids and hexagons;
sailed round Île d’If of
Monte Christo fame,
my imagination casting
DiCaprio as The Count.
Anchored in a quiet bay,
we took a swim,
me, with life vest on,
as liminality overtook
I drifted away
until a tossed rope
reeled me in.
Sleep came easy
the sound of the sea
slapping the ship,
the smell of brine
through a tiny porthole,
my soul filled,
family, food, and wine.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Written on 2026-06-03 at 02:26
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Buoyed
Once I sailed the Mediterraneanrested upon the catamaran’s net,
sea sinking below, sky rising above,
eyes straining for a glimpse of sea life,
perhaps one of the sharks
I was assured lived elsewhere,
but I knew better.
We passed the concrete city,
La Grande Motte, white
pyramids and hexagons;
sailed round Île d’If of
Monte Christo fame,
my imagination casting
DiCaprio as The Count.
Anchored in a quiet bay,
we took a swim,
me, with life vest on,
as liminality overtook
I drifted away
until a tossed rope
reeled me in.
Sleep came easy
the sound of the sea
slapping the ship,
the smell of brine
through a tiny porthole,
my soul filled,
family, food, and wine.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Written on 2026-06-03 at 02:26
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