Big dogs roam the streets at night The frail little bird nests, snugly, so tight Sprinkling infected, burning kisses on everyone You love Fire comes down in sheets from above
Deeper and deeper do You crawl straight down Going absolutely nowhere , You burrow and drown Angels and their people-pets, walk freely on land Albino seaweed and black seashells, shatter, like glass in My hand
the melancholy of the moment hit me hard like a rain check ten minutes before meeting i've been on that road probably a thousand times since last may but something about the sunshine and the slightly balmy breeze of late april made me crave you in a way i hadn't before i craved the way you always smelled like essential oils and organic moisturizer the seashells on your window frame the creak in the floorboards in your entryway the wind in my hair as i rode my bike to your house, barely even able to wait long enough for the white walk signal i miss that and it vanished right before my eyes it's like every i touch falls apart and i can't do anything to stop it the funny things was it started raining
I wish I was there again. I wish everything that’s in my head got lost at sea, that all I could taste was salty air. I wish I was walking in the little shops that all sold seashells and starfish. I wish everywhere I was I could hear the crashing tide; calling me back to the cold, fresh, water. I wish my feet were buried in warm sand, hiding from the chilling breeze. I wish I was where time slowed to a stop, where I had all the time in the world. I wish I was staring into a never ending horizon, where I wasn’t always running to catch up. Where all I had to do was breathe in and breathe out.
What if Sally never sold the seashells? What if she simply strolled the seashore without wanting any more? With nothing to do but to love and adore? Because she knew well that deep down in her core, She had more in this present moment than ever before. So instead of setting up shop and selling some shells, She took a moment to stop and started smelling the smells. Sally smelt the breeze both wispy and sweet, And she felt the ocean kissing her feet. And in that present moment she understood the truth, That wealth was not acquired behind some seashell booth, But rather it was in the sea and in the shells themselves, And never could it be found on some capitalistic shelves, Sally smiled because she knew so much more than before, She smiled because she knew the tide would bring more shells ashore.
*inspired by the low tide in Puerta Penasco, Mexico in October 2017*
I remember pressing my innocent ears to the mouths of discarded seashells, just to hear their secrets; and I shared mine. They told me secrets in the form of ocean waves and whispers of wind between the fingers of the palms.
On days that I feel the world crumbling and combusting around me, I press my wiser ears to the same lips that kept all my secrets safe. I remember the advice seashells gave to a young girl who'd felt discarded. Be like the ocean, let it flow.