Dear _____,

place yourself inside a whelk
and listen to your own breathing:

this is the sound a shell plays
when held up to your ear.

your ribs are merely two conches
meant for you to walk out of–

an ocean rises in your chest
with each inhale, and your lungs

are just coral forests stung with salt
before the tide calls it all back.

it is an echo written in the sand
stuck between your toes, finding home

in each empty space to remind you
there is a place for you here,

and on the days where the sea stills
remember your breath is a ripple:

a gentle wave strong enough
to rebound against any shore.

Originally written 08-10-2024

Accompanying music: Ask Me Why (Mother’s Message) by Joe Hisaishi