Sand and Sea

I felt the sand in between my toes and wondered if each grain was a universe stuck to me. I’m tired these days, too tired to keep on being the world to those who saw something in me once, something they thought they could own or exploit or co-opt to their own ends. That’s what it is to have promise, that’s what it is to have a future. A ready made pack of wolves sits waiting to pounce and devour you when ripe and it’s up to you to out smart or out run them. Pity those who think the world benevolent. 

 

I feel the sea wash around my feet, salt and foam massaging tired digits and wiping away detritus and debris. How can I stand here and do nothing yet be purified with salt? Nature holds this at the ready, offering it to those who will come to meet her at the edge of the water. No trouble is so great it cannot fit on the sky over the horizon at the edge of the world. This is what it means to heal, to look out at the edge of the sea and let what was be washed away, to let the sea take all but that which is you. Pity those who think the world hopeless.