How to find a soul in the ocean

by Heather Kaufmann

Wade into slow rolling surf

with blunted questions.

Stay ankle deep

for the length of a tide.

Let silence

ebb and flow,

making granular

between your toes

what otherwise

would settle or

be sapped of seawater

beneath a low tide sun.

Then begin to swim,

not far from shore,

but deep enough to know

that sharks might find

your naked ankles,

if nearby lies

a colony of seals.

Take heed of scrapes

still bleeding into brine.

Believe in prayers like

because you say so

flung by a fisherman

desperate for a catch.

Return to shore

and rest a while.

Lay your back

against the sand,

your head carving out

a full moon

beneath you,

your prayers

growing vast

as the blue

that rests above.

Ask the Spirit what

you might have missed.

Now go and don

your diving gear.

Find the nearest dock

and sail out to sea.

When the shore shrinks

to a sliver, it’s time

to plunge to the place

there is no light

but your own

headlamp beaming

a way down deeper,

to the crust of that

metamorphic self

you’d never know

existed,

if not for the bulb

banded to your skull—

that Light of Lights

not always lit

surprising

what it bares

(what it bears)

when it flares.

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Heather Kaufmann is a New England native, poet, and Anglican pastor. Her work has been published in Christian Century, Anglican Theological Review, Ekstasis, Pensive, and The Windhover, among others.