top of page
  • Writer's pictureSusan Michele Coronel


Updated: Jul 14, 2021

Originally posted in Amethyst Review:

I wanted the ocean to be my mother, shaking seaweed from her hair, her skirt a bolt of bright blue fabric drifting towards me as more than an idea. I heard fables retold on makeshift rafts, rocking to and fro as I ambled among rocks, beheld the crest of a wave. I hoped for a moonlit channel to traverse, to see my face reflected back. But my mother, the rainstorm, shook berries from the tree, lashed my ankles with pebbles. Unwanted roots emerged from underneath. I take the harbor ferry to leave my roots behind and lift me out of the dark, extend my eyes to where sails slide into sun. I mine the stars for milk, place my finger on my navel and a seagull emerges, a clock in its beak. Time is a procession. I am hunted by evening clouds, and I lose connection to my mother like a whistle fading in fog. Pain nourishes me because it contains seeds of goodness. I put on a blindfold and keep still. Now I don’t need to choose. I am not afraid. Ocean and rain, teach my heart to sing like the clear water that flows night and day. Who is that still voice in the water?


Hi, I'm Susan Michele Coronel

I'm a writer and educator based in New York City.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • LinkedIn
  • Instagram

Creativity. Productivity. Vision.

It has been a prolific year for my writing. You can find my poems in print and online in a host of literary journals, and I'm working on a book. 

Please subscribe to my newsletter to get the latest updates and information on my newest published works. So happy to connect with you. 

Get fun emails from me: 

Thanks for submitting!

bottom of page