Poets United's Think Tank prompt is a seashell. The seashell I used to find most often in Tofino is the sand dollar, so I am writing about it instead.
When I walk along the shore,
my entire being feels
as spacious as the sky,
and as empty.
I have only to step onto the sand
for all cares to fall away,
where all I hear is
the endless rolling
of the waves,
the song of the sea,
where all I feel is peaceful,
like a blank slate
with only one word written on it:
Joy.
In my consciousness
is only the expansive
and eternal sound
of the waves,
the smell of the sea,
the cry of the gulls,
and my feet,
walking,
my heart
relishing these too-brief moments
in my spirit's home.
The load I usually carry
has been divested
in the parking lot.
I will pick it up
again
as I leave.
But, for now,
I am here,
my spirit in tune.
I am home,
my heart lilting along
with my footsteps
to the ebbing and the flowing
of the waves,
in their endless dance.
The hard-packed sand
stretches ahead for forever.
My heart dips and lifts
above the wave-tops
with the gulls, and
with the flocks
of tiny seabirds
that constantly rise,
fly up, swerve
and resettle back on the ground
as a group, like dancing.
When it is time to leave,
I pocket a sand dollar.
I will carry away with me
the memory of the sea,
and the beauty of the shore,
where I have replenished
my store of peace
once more,
by letting the sursurration
of the waves
wash through me,
through my ears,
my brain,
my skin, my being,
until I am as calm as
the lull between waves,
as strong and silent
as the smooth stones
scattered along the ocean's shore,
as patient as the sand dollar
that spins its house
from the sand and grit around it
and carries it within.
Like the sand dollar,
I am made of the sand
and the sea,
and I carry home with me
every time I walk away.
