Claiming Safety

Claiming Safety

You lay in the sand,
in weather that is no longer summer,
almost cool, windy with a warm sun.
You doze, in and out.
A nap in plain view. In public.
You feel strangely safe.

You use that word purposefully.
Safe is not where you live.
It has never been where you lived since you were a child,
as an adult, through workplaces and relationships,
you were reminded, often,
sure of your wrongness,
reminded of it often,
Safe came only when you were alone.

The stereophonic waves fill your ears,
irregular and even, somehow all at once,
they travel from right to left in your ears.
You can sense them growing closer with the tide.
You need no eyes to know this.
You can hear it.

There is comfort in the sound.
Comfort in the sun. No matter
that any who pass by can see you,
blue jeans and flannel, hair akimbo,
Never a fashion plate, you are less so now.
Your scars not so much covered
as simply unimportant,
road markers on a life lived, if not always well,
fully.

You breathe in. Out. Purposeful and loose.
Your boney rib cage, rises and falls.
You feel the muscles in your belly tighten and release.
In the distance you hear voices. They are furtive
as they walk past you, telling secrets perhaps,
or imagining you, the sole sleeper in the sand.

It does not matter. None of it matters.
Only the love, the woman who sent you here for healing.
You think of her. You feel a stirring.
It is your heart. Only the love,
a God who gave you such a place.
Only the love, this place of safety,
so rare, not because of distance,
but courage
to claim it.

You doze in the sand.
The claiming almost complete.
Safe, because you have chosen safety
at last.

About this poem

Life is both more dangerous, and safer than we know. Than we choose.

Love, always,

Tom

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