poetry by Kate Ruebenson / photographs by Megan Ashley
Poem by Kate Ruebenson
what gift, these limbs
what curse, these limbs
in wait, to return
a sea of furious sisters calls
each night a melody
a madness my captor
pretends he cannot hear
Selkies are folkloric beings who can shapeshift from seal to human form by shedding their sealskin. The stories vary by culture, but often involve a lonely man stealing and hiding the selkie’s sealskin, forcing her to become a wife and mother. The selkie spends her days in captivity longing for the sea, her true home, and will gaze longingly at the ocean. She may bear several children, who often discover and show their mother the hidden sealskin. Once she sees her skin, the selkie will go to the sea, disappearing into the waves.
In 2018, I invited women to dye ripped linens with me in the sea. We shed our clothing, dyed strips of linen that echoed the forms of seaweed, blueing our skin with natural indigo. The blue went softly into the sea, a blue blood between our bodies and the beach.
