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By: Amy Jarvis

This is not where I’m from, it is
a retelling, written in the absence of where home once was
I pull the tide close to my chest,
rhythm of washing things clean right outside my bedroom
window
Stories here all have the sea as a metaphor for self,
a place made for
release & not rebirth
I am not a traveler,
I invented walking here & yet
the peninsula drowns me in my skin,
unsettled in my chest
& I come back to a place I refuse to be put to rest in
& I do not pass through, here are my roots, embedded
in sea & salt & sky
I now stand north of the current & watch it climb up to the
shore
One day I’d like to leave here & never come back but
the tide calls me in a fever dream leaving messages for a
version of me
washed away by something that promised to just make me clean
& I have seen the light
calling out to people who will never return to it,
shore becomes sea becomes storm
I don’t look upward for heaven anymore
I see God in the tide coming in

***
amy jarvis is a first year Creative Writing major from Rhode Island.
She’s a lover of light, a poet, and by default, a hopeless romantic.

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