Tag: #beach

Symbols in the Sand

A detour, soulful tugging,
I find myself impulsively
knelt again on the white sands
before the altar at an end
of the earth,
surf symphony
rising predictably
to greet me,
but I casually look about
for the signs He wanted me
to again come ’round…
between my toes
ancient mountains ground
to grains,
quartz granules,
sugar-soft,
appropriate backdrop
for the hieroglyph
written for me:
it freezes me.

So easily,
I succumb
to the enchantment
of silence,
save for those waves
and occasional sea birds
with personal messages calling.
(It always baffles me
how I can so often have
this parcel of paradise
to myself…)
I stay a long, unhurried while
just trying to feel
what this enigmatic swirl
of sea oat in the sand
is all about…
Something about curves
is always so sensuous,
aesthetically strokes
my soul…
I don’t need a translation;
in fact, I prefer
this sacredly-carved symbol.
I make it my own
and add it to my collection
of clues
leading me leisurely
home.
It is the journey
after all, and I have nowhere else
to go.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

May I?

May I never lose my way
to getting lost,
may I never resist the urge
to leave it all, 
may I never shelter my face
from the storm, 
may I never let my arms fall
in the downpour,
may I never fully wash off
the grit of the sand, 
and may I never be restrained 
by clock or human hand.

May I never negotiate with my soul: 
may I never let anyone close the window. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Soft Impressions

Let me walk
with you awhile, 
whether or not you
lend me your shoes
for a mile.

In fact, let’s both
take them off
and leave them here
as we surf the shore,

finding naturally
the treasures
within us each,
bare feet
on common
shifting grounds
equally.

One set of footprints
in the sand
they say is when
we are carried by Him,

but in the interim
let me be the second
impressions alongside yours,
for in this world
we all need sometimes
to see the touch
so longed for. 

We don’t need to hold hands.
We don’t need to even speak.
Let’s just walk together awhile
in the comfort of kindred company.

And should you be here again tomorrow,
maybe we could exchange shoes for a mile. 
And should you come back at our planned time, 
maybe for a bit, we could leave our shells behind.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

The Past In Your Palm

Natural beach tangleballs
messily woven with care;
the tides tidy the past,
clean up the yesteryears,

least-cherished experiences
ready for burial but not at sea,
rejected from the ocean
to keep the present clean.

From the depths, the debris
from storms and dune erosion
get collected and rolled like snowballs
and returned to the shores,

sand burial for these non-treasures
heavy in the chest
that successfully sunk
but then resurrected.

Inspect it, if you can,
at this time of the future,
the mess and the once unbearable
now so compacted,

once thrashed about
then captured by the dark and deep,
now in your palm, non-crystal ball
looking back controlledly–

the imagined lines and ropes
and exoskeletons of past selves shed,
the stench of rotten wounds
and splinters of the shipwrecks,

all detailed in
the collection of symbols,
the litter of your old life
ready for respectful burial. 

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Dig the hole
in sand or dirt,
and if so desired,
place a marker on it,

then walk back to the water
and submerge yourself:
the present is clear,
and blissful is this
new soothing swell. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

See Past Shells

You are not broken.

We all have our chips,
scabs and scars,
stories hidden,

the search and strive
for perfect,
itself a myth;

you are perfect
as is,

each soul a treasure,
measured not by appearance
or the illusion of wholeness,

for we are equally complete
when love washes over us

for no shell is enclosed,
though we shrink within,

open and in rotation,
vulnerable hearts
search for a fit.

The ocean knows
and sings the wisdom:

each of us beautiful,
not just enough,
but the only one for another
and in God’s hands, cupped. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

It Calls to Souls

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It calls to souls,
summons apropos
when we are weary with worldly woes,
wants to wash us whole,

and I feel the pull…

So benevolent is the offering,
selfless power there dwelling,
to wrap me in the healing dressing
and infuse the peace;

I feel it filling…

It calls to souls,
universally, indiscriminately so;
every ocean and sea seems to extol
us when our true selves we simply show.
I get brushed into that timeless tableau,
the heavenly mantel family photo,
and His love takes hold,

welcomes me home.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise