Shifting

shifting sands
grains unable to be grasped
slipping through fingers
sieve of my existence
footprints vanishing
in vain trying to leave
an imprint, fingerprints
fossilizing

as I watch
sea drops dry on shells
shells of mankind
displayed non-selves
on shelves

shifting painted shapes
offer to take me away
only to lead to the next
drifting cumulous cloud
lateral when I need
to be higher
homeward bound

shifting sands
I open my hand
spread my fingers wider
I know what the answers
are not
to feel the silk
is to feel
nothing caught
but sensory strokes
the void
in the curve
of my palm
no trail found
to my entrance
into the sea

saltwater can’t sting
when the wounds
are too far beneath
the body’s surface

arms open
I invite
the above in
home-
sick
let me know
I am not

forgotten

10 thoughts on “Shifting

  1. “I know what the answers are not to feel the silk is to feel nothing caught but sensory strokes the void in the curve
    of my palm no trail found…” Laura, my friend, your words are soothing to the soul. I FEEL your freedom when you’re near the sea, at your beach, sand in your feet, wind in your hair. I love your spirit and the blessings you give us. Your photos are simply beautiful.💚🤍💛

    Liked by 1 person

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