Poem - "Jellyfish"

Jellyfish

Wren Greyson

Photo by Anna Tarazevich, from Pexels

My freedom is no ocean. 

I wander, astray

In the sea for warm currents

And others like me. 

I wrap tendrils around the ones who stay—

Burying them inside myself, whether they want my protection or not—

There’s no home for our fragile bodies.

The waves are pushing us in the direction of our dreams, but still 

We beg them to move faster or keep us. 

We drift, free and pointless, from nowhere to whoknowswhere.

I wash up on shore, get kicked back into the water, wash onto shore. 

No one wants to acknowledge how I’ve gotten here—

          Spitten out by the sea—

Wants to take the chance to hold me—

          Tentacles loose, writhing— 

Wants to clean me up from the damage of land—

          Latched onto the wrong ideas. 

I try to digest the sand that’s tearing my skin, 

Try to fall back into the salty ocean, 

Try to see if the world will take me back or 

Try to see if a fox will eat me first,

Try to

You pick me up. 

Your hands are smooth shells, dipped to brace all my pieces. 

My flesh tastes yours, full-bodied brine 

And mellow handling.

I can’t sting—Wouldn’t sting you—wanting 

To see where this new force guides me. 

My beautiful body in the perfect tank, bedside

With the glowing lights and frilled leaves 

That catch the food your hands pour in. 

I am free with clean skin and real food, unbound 

In a shelter for spitting up sand. I roam

The glass that looks like me. I dream in pearlescence, 

Draw with bubbles, decorate your life with the sheen of my thoughts. 

I absorb everything you give me. You give to me. 

You treasure me, see me, as something easy to handle. 

To you, I am effortless, a habit formed in a breeze. 

To you, clear and brilliant.  

To you, not lost or fragile; always here and always safe.