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
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.
View original post 319 more words