That was Carmel by the Sea

The memories

The pain

All that used to be rooted in the deep ocean

Now floating in plain sight

I was holding onto everything

Like the Carmel sea in a cloudy fall

I had let some out

But there was so much left on the horizon

I just didn't want anyone else to witness it

I had to do it alone

I had to let them out alone

I had to do it in the deep night

When nobody was watching

And as the sea was letting it out

So were my nightmares

Eventually. It will all be out

So the flies can enjoy it

There was no sunset today

It was just dimmed

That was it. That was Carmel

Carmel by the Sea

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Sometimes a poem finds you as much as you find it. That Was Carmel by the Sea was my attempt to hold the weight of memory, to capture the emotions we cling to, and to explore what it feels like to finally release them.

Burden of Memories

It began with the line, “And I was holding onto it.” I was struck by how we grasp onto our memories, both joyful and painful, much like the sea holds onto seaweed. There’s a heaviness in carrying the past, and writing this poem helped me acknowledge that weight.

The Turbulence of Emotions

Powerful feelings can shift like the Carmel sea in a cloudy fall—sometimes calm, sometimes wild. The poem became a way to illustrate that inner turbulence, the hidden weeds beneath the surface, and the moments when emotions unexpectedly surface.

Releasing the Pain

Letting go is rarely simple. Lines like “I had to do it alone” and “I had to do it in the deep night” remind me that releasing what no longer serves us is often a quiet, personal journey. Growth and healing frequently happen in those unseen, introspective moments.

A Ray of Hope

Even in darkness, there’s resilience. “Eventually. It will all be out / So the flies can enjoy it.” For me, these lines honor the idea that our buried emotions, once released, contribute to a greater sense of clarity and liberation.

When the Light Fades

Not every day is vibrant. “There was no sunset today / It was just dimmed.” Some days are dim, cloudy, or muted—but even then, there’s space for reflection, for gentle growth, and for connecting with ourselves.

Carmel by the Sea reflects a universal human experience: grappling with the past, with our emotions, and with the work of finding release. Writing it reminded me that these journeys, though sometimes solitary, are shared in their essence.

Even on dim days, we can pause, breathe, and honor the process of letting go.