I dove headlong into the sea two weeks ago.
Grey clouds
grey skies
reflected gray waters.
Rain fell, ambivalent,
hiding the sun, obscuring the soul
if soul there was. I don’t know what the rain believes,
but I knew it meant well.

I kicked off my shoes; shed my sweater, draping it across a rock
beaten smooth by crashing saltwater assaults,
misery endured silently for millennia
solid, solitary, solemn.

I walked, barefoot, across the stones.
I listened to the ringing of the silence
to the roar of the ocean.
Rain-soaked and reverent,
I willed myself to the edge of the rocks,
where I watched the waves seething below,
calling, inviting
nagging, inciting
persisting, requesting
insisting, infesting.

Turning my face to the absent sun,
I closed my eyes
felt the sting of the icy wind
felt the hairs on my arms begin to stand,
the frigid air aching in my lungs.
My breath caught, shivers interrupting a sigh of submission,
and I told myself
Peace.
You are not afraid. Not anymore.
And I smiled. And I felt warm.
And I was happy.
I counted one, two, three,
and I fell.

You see beauty every day,
but tell me,
do you ever feel it?