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Ocean -- poetry by Gracie Yaconelli

Great and deep carrier

of whale bones

I can nearly touch the surface

foaming with unkempt rage

Breaking mountains

into ragged rays,

black and blue, bruised

but head high                         

facing up to thank some unknown 

Poseidon or otherwise 

seagulls


Spitting salt so fresh of 

earth, I can hardly lean 

my body far enough 

to be swallowed up into 

enormity, into everything bold 

and broken  

A rocking rhythm 

I could serve, yet never sink into


Held unlike comfort but close 

to revelation



Gracie Yaconelli is a seventeen-year-old high school senior living in the foothills of the Cascade and Siskiyou mountain ranges in Ashland, Oregon. She is a musician, songwriter, avid trail runner, and parent of two elderly Abyssinian guinea pigs. Gracie currently serves on the national Youth Advisory Council for Inward Bound Mindfulness Education. As founder and president of the Ashland High School Writers and Poets club, she leads weekly workshops for aspiring young writers.

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