Poems by Jonna

I think summer always leaves something behind.

A stone in your pocket. Salt on your skin. A memory that feels brighter than it probably was. Something lost in the water that you decide, in the end, not to swim back for.

These three poems all came from that feeling: the way the sea can hold things for us, take things from us, and smooth certain memories until they become easier to carry.

Lulled Asleep By the Tide

Moonlight kisses
midnight ripples on the shore
where I walked as a child.

I pick up a piece of glass
smoothed by the current,
edges leaning against my hand.

I catch my own reflection
smudged by years in the sand.

I throw the shard back
into the water,
where it is lulled asleep
by the tide.

The Watch

I jumped in the sea
and felt the cold water
engulf my body.

My watch slipped
from my wrist.

Should I dive down
for what was lost
behind stones and seaweed?

I saw the sun break
over the surface above me
and kept swimming up.

I Carry August With Me

I carry August with me,
a stone smoothed by the tide.

I pull it out of my pocket
and place it
in the palm of my hand.

It still shimmers
in shades of white
when I hold it up
to the autumn sun,

carrying the scent
of salt and rocks
long after summer
has gone.

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I keep coming back to this idea of what we save and what we let go.

Sometimes the thing you lose is small: a watch, a shard of glass, a moment you thought you could hold onto. Sometimes what remains is even smaller: a stone, a shimmer, the smell of salt.

But maybe that is enough.

Maybe we don’t need to carry the whole summer with us. Maybe one small thing in the palm of your hand can be enough to remember the light by.