The selkie longed for the sea again
There, she knew who she was
Free to slide between the worlds
Of sea and sand, bask on crags, jet-black
Thrusting limbs out to the sea
Whitecaps breaking into froth
Enveloping her skin, glazed in spin-drift,
Shimmer in the moonlight of Midsummer
Dance freely, if she wished,
A seal skin lying in the sand
Slick, shiny and black
From a safe distance, the fisherman watched
The toss of black curls in tumbling waves
His sight he did not doubt
Remembered tales
His ancestors shared
A dark-eyed race
Wave-born as Goddesses of old
To the keeper of her seal-skin
A captured bride
Taken away
To sea-battered cottage of stone
Days spent
Steeping jugs of honey mead
Banking turf-fires, gathering
Stinging nettles in the heath
Scouring the muck
For periwinkles, dulse and cockleshells
Wiping the noses of babes
Eyes – deep, dark and wide
Hair – slick, shiny and black
The prow of his curraugh crested on the waves
He cast his nets out to the sea
She waited at the water’s edge
Remembered movements
Of fluid ease, supple
In the sea-foam, plunging into
The murky depths, undaunted by wind and cold,
Yearning for vistas
Wayward, wild and wide
Longing for her second skin
She searched:
Beneath a cairn of stones, at the bottom
Of an oak sea chest, in the byre,
In the feeding troughs,
In the keel of his fishing boat
None contained her heart’s desire
The bellow of a sea-born gust
Blowing from beyond
The ninth wave west
Thatches of rushes quaked
From the eaves, a satchel tumbled
Within, the treasure so long she sought
Slick, shiny and black
To reclaim things so long withheld
Does not come easy, a path so long denied
Duties by others assigned
Yet, the children with deep, dark eyes
Unknowing, guiltless for the reasons why,
Rumors in the days to come
Sightings of a dark seal lingering long
By the shore, frolicking in the swells,
Flippers raised seem to wave
Beseeching the children digging for shells in the sand
They fished the seas as their father before
Though none of their lineage ever drowned
When capsized in a storm, awake dazed,
On the beach, guided somehow
Safely to the shore
At Midsummer, when the moon was
Full and bright, danced in circle
United by women, dark tresses unfurl
The salt of tears, of loss, of longing
A bitter sting indeed
Yet, she could not resist the tides
The moon that pulls the seas
Longing for briny vistas
Wayward, wild and wide
Footprints in the swash marks
A dark-eyed progeny she left behind