If you ever walk on the beach, you'll know how easy it is sink in the sand. To lose yourself
in the restless tumbling of waves and the strong arms of the wind that never seems to lose hope, of one day catching something worth keeping.
I keep walking.
If you ever walk on the beach, you'll never forget the jealousy.
The birds that fly too high,
leave me behind with a mind so fragile.
I am left to be swallowed. By the waves, or by the fears, I can't remember.
I keep walking.
If you ever walk on the beach, you might start humming a tune, a melody of melancholy or misery. Again I can't remember, but either way it reaches the ears of the sea. Or was the shore singing first?
You can't tell. Neither can I, but to wait and search for answers means drifting away and shrinking, so
I keep walking.
But then, I stop.
To forget that I was once on the beach at all is a talent I have perfected.
If I close my eyes I can almost see it.
Like a distant memory.
A dream you once had but no matter how hard you try, you can't summon the most important details.
As I walk,
my feet sinking in the sand, my soul getting swept away by the wind, my heart getting lost in the rolling waves, I look to the sky and dream about disappearing.
Not from the world, but just this beach temporarily.
'Cause the shore is getting a little too loud and the waves so overbearing, they seem to be swallowing me,
the wind still thinks I am something worth keeping.
It must be mistaken.
If you've ever walked on the beach as long as I have,
you'll know what it's like to taste the salt. The salt of the big water or the salt on you're cheeks, it's easy to mistake the one for the other.
But it's ok.
I can't remember how,
but I know it's ok.
No one said salt was bad.
Salt cleans.
It heals.
I don't think you've walked the same beach I have.
Because if you did, the waves would look tempting, soothing, welcoming.
You'd look down at the sand that is slowly turning black,
the wind would claw at you, trying to pull you back.
The salt on your cheeks calls for that in the waves, and you can't help but wonder,
"If the ocean stole me now, would I ever want to come back?"
The water smiles, reaching it's arms out for me as I take a step. Pushing out the screeching of the wind, I close my eyes as I am enveloped in the gentlest of embraces.
I feel myself burn.
Maybe it's the salt, maybe the
bruises, maybe both.
But it's finally quiet. No birds. No singing shore. Nothing. The broken mind finally stops its crying.
The waves tell me something, but I don't hear it. Above the surface I see the wind dancing softly.
That's where the memories fade.
In the last moments, I asked the calming stillness:
"Should I have stayed?"
The wind whispered something, but I can't remember what.
28/1/2021
