Poem: Warming the Bones

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Warming the Bones

The sea is calm.
Waves lap gently on the shore.
A soft wind blows off the ocean.
The sun is September warm.

You close your eyes. Savoring.
Losing yourself in the brief perfection.

In the distance, you hear seals.
In the distance, you hear gulls.
Faint calls of the well fed.

The tide rises. After a time
it reaches your feet.
It is startlingly cold, and wakes you from your reverie.

But on for a moment.
You shuffle up the beach and shut your eyes again,
unwilling to let go of this laconic moment.

You are greedy of your peace.
That is the truth.
You make no apologies.

Too many storms have made you so.
You bear the scars of storms poorly survived.
At times, it seems, you do not have the sense to come inside,
lightning fodder, flotsam on the tide.

But you have learned the importance of stillness
when life allows it. It empties your soul.
allows your God in,

and makes you strong.
A strength beyond your own,
a strength always, if barely, enough.

Nothing is wasted.
Not storms.
Not peace.
Not time and the battles within.

Nothing.
They all lead here, where the waves lap at your feet,
and the September sun warms your bones.

 

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