As published in Ocean Poetry Anthology 2024, edited by A.M. Larks, illustrated by Leslie Gonzalez. Available for purchase on Amazon.
Author Bio: Danielle is 24, an August baby, and lives on Long Island, where she’s blessed with a beach no more than 20 minutes from home in every direction. She wrote the poem included in this anthology during her undergraduate career in Career Writing at Hunter College in NYC.
Self-Love I should take a photo of myself. It wouldn’t be so bad To see myself Among things beautiful For once. I’ll stand in front of the ocean Where the salt air crimps my hair. My curls go wild In the sea breeze, the Frizzies jump free Like waves, Like birds, like leaves— I’m a mere medium To emphasize The wind. I’ll lay on the sand. They say There’s as many specs Of dessert here As there are stars In the sky. I’ll Let them fall into my shorts, Tickle me under My bralette. When I stand, I’ll see the Shape of me below—a snow angel Of shore—proof of my substance; Yes, I have made A mark. It could be bigger; It could be smaller, But for now It just is. I can hear myself laughing At the bad takes; the photos I’m blinking, or in between Movements—the funny look On my face. But There’s something in The strength of the water— Unerring, as it is— Which assures I’ll find A good one If only I trust. I can hear myself crying, too, Right as the sun sets—it’ll be So beautiful— But the tears won’t matter, Not while I’m laying in seawater; I can decide It isn’t sad—just My reverent return To salt; a poignant reminder I’m one With the sea. Once the moon is out, She’ll tell me stories Of seashells— Drowned and lost In the waves, Yet still chosen By girls and their mothers, Brought home as relics From the day, they’ll say “Look, this one Is beautiful,” and They won’t notice The scars. The sand may scratch My scabs—guide them down and Off of me To become blood again, Rooted in the earth I walk on, Stronger. They’ll stay there— They’ll stay buried in the sand. When I catch a glimpse of myself In the water that keeps on Running back to me, I’ll snap a photo Of that; I’ll smile, Oh, I’ll smile, Natural, and free, And I’ll think maybe, Maybe It wouldn’t be so bad to love myself.
