by Sara Norja
My bit of knitted ocean, wrap around me, waves warm. Encircle me. Stop me, my made-by-hands uneven-woven stitches-haphazard windkeeper, from wandering the workplace a grey ghost. Save me, my colour-of-sea rough-tweeded before-storm garment, from breathing too deep the mist that fills this building — poison fog, prison fog. Keep me, blue-of-ocean, till my time is done, and I walk out into the gale, freedom tugging at my lips, my feet, and oh, above all my sea-witch heart.
Sara Norja dreams in two languages and has a predilection for tea. Born in England and currently settled in Helsinki, Finland, she lives for words, dance, and moments of wonder. Her poetry has appeared in publications such as Curio, Strange Horizons, Through the Gate, Plunge Magazine, Niteblade, and Interfictions. She blogs here.
When asked to name her favourite fruit, Sara replied as follows: "I'm fond of too many fruits to name a favourite. However, I often get a craving for apricots. Perfect, ripe apricots are hard to come by in Finland even in the summer, so I indulge in them whenever I travel. Once, in summer-exhausting London, after a weary day of walking, I saw a stand selling fruit and bought a paper bag full of apricots. The soft fuzzy fruit-skin on my fingers, the apricot juice filling my mouth – I felt rejuvenated after a single bite."
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