Poetry | Bombora

See those rocks out there past the break?

Sometimes you can’t see them, they are covered by the tide blanket.

Look, there they are again.

Well, that’s where I am. I mostly live a submerged existence, coming up for air only sometimes.

My name is in the original language of the earliest peoples; the ones who saw me first. 

The surfer boys call me ‘bommie’, they play their beautiful board games on the waves I create. 

The boats know to stay away; they can see my tell-tale signs of broken white water. 

There is a reef co-inhabiting this underwater wonderworld with me. 

Most do not know what is offshore – 

a whole playground of rocks and reefs in one cluster.

With the swells we change character and temperament. 

We get angry, like everyone does, it is when we are calm that we become exposed. 

In the silence of the night times when the speckle of people existing on the yellow beyond me is gone, 

it is far from silent underneath. 

Abundant activity sings the song of dark solitude. 

I watch the moonbeams dance across the soft breakers; they are the mirrorballs of the ocean.

I join in the soft swaying of the fish as we drift in a nocturnal dance. 

Who will discover me tomorrow? 

After the solar alarm clock sends visitors. 

I will welcome them. 

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