Carrying on… Sand and wind.

Sand is nothing but a stone beaten into submission.
Surrendered to the waves… storm upon storm… wave upon wave.
Nothing jagged or hard
Just soft warm sand

I look for hope in the water
In the foam around my feet
In the warmth of the sand and the coolness of the waves
In the spray on my face
In the sound and rhythm of the relentless waves

And I think on the good days that I have gathered all the pieces
And sorted through the mess with bleeding fingers
Sorted into piles by kind and organized by size
And sifted
for whatever dreams remain
And I realize that I am not done yet.
And I think of that rock… broken yes, but not beaten.

And everywhere is memories that sting my face like wind driven sand
And my eyes are irritated and red
I cough a dry cough.
And those waves are a hundred miles away.

Some days I rub my eyes as I walk out into the bright morning light
Perfect blue cloudless sky
and sharp shadows of pines across the sandy lake bottom
broken by rough bits of granite.

and no matter how hard I inhale, there is no air.
and memories seem frozen… like bits of video and unsynched sound
And I wonder if I will ever get out and ever find it…
And far away the waves crash in and then flow out

I can’t make sense of it…
losing my son.
I can’t sort through his ashes for the bits of bone to read
or dig a fork into my arm until I can feel something other…
other than the pain in my gut… and that empty sense of
loss…

It isn’t as if I can cry him back or hope him back
or pray him back or want him back
They tell you if you want something bad enough
As if flapping my arms and hoping will make me fly
And I can lay on the floor in his room and close my eyes and he is sleeping next to me…
When I open my eyes I am again… alone.
He is not coming back.

And I can scream and yell to fill the void… but like sand
it will just slip away
And I can wonder and hope and remember
How is he gone? How is that even possible?

You look into my eyes and see if there is anything left
If my soul has been beaten into sand
If I still have a dream to drift by
If there is still wind to cary me on
Or if I am alone.

Sand is nothing but stone beaten into submission…
Am I a stone?
How long before the waves carry me away… grain by grain…
And I blow away in the wind?
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2 thoughts on “Carrying on… Sand and wind.

  1. I am hoping your writings are helping you ease some of the pain. I can feel and read the pain in your writings. I wish i could help ease your pain.

    Like

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