The walls were painted
The color of the sea
I could hear the waves
Crashing in the distance
Wandering the terraces
That were used
To sculpt and write on
The ghost of inspiration
Heavy in the air
The sun and salt
Kissing my skin
I want to feel at peace
The way Anna must have
Confident in my purpose
Empowered to create
And share my passion
But the doubts
Have been hovering
About me
Like vultures
Waiting to attack
I have been clawing at my skin
Since I was six years old
Anytime I'm overwhelmed
My nails find my flesh
I don't draw blood
Like I used to
Only when it gets really bad
I released my father's ashes
At sunrise into the
Same ocean that
Surrounds Atalaya
The dunes are wild
The sand is soft
Like spun silk
Until the sharp
Spurs and shells
Find my winter feet
I walk to find
Where the water
Meets the shore
Letting it carry away
Some of this weight
With each gentle current
I am numb to the cold
As I have been to
My life lately
Placating others and
Forgetting myself
With each passing day
We found a pair of black boots
Left in the old servants quarters
They were exactly my size
I am ready to slip them on
And finally find myself
A vision and journey
I know now that
Only I can take and
A defiant spirit
To not be molded
From the eyes
Of someone else.
~Amber Comber 2015
