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

Restless

is my soul

in this skin,

morphing,

from the cocoon

but not yet used to these

wings,

free

from the dark, cramped

past-life chrysalis

but not free enough

from the weighted wet

preventing my wings

from fully drying,

so I can fly,

soar to my fullest

potential,

reach the height

I’ve been aching for

since I was born.

Restless is my soul

still

in its search for the home

waiting for me.

Not in a rush,

but tired

of the delays

with wings

still not ready

to take me

where I so long

to be.

Perhaps

my home

will come

to me…

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

One Drop Dreaming

I am but one,

already tired,

one tiny bent molecule

in a sea of salt water.

I drift with others,

ebb and flow,

too slowly moving

to really know

if we’re going forward

at all;

am I my own motion

or merely following

the crowd,

being pulled and tugged,

or worse, rocked to sleep?

Am I even awake

or is this a dream?

What would happen,

I wonder,

if I resisted the urge

to merely drift like this

because it’s easier.

I once heard

in hushed whispers

about a legendary drop

that caused a ripple

that created a wave

that pummeled the shore

that got the attention

of a grain of sand

who thought to itself,

I want to do more…

The Sun Shares

The sun shares its rays

indiscriminately,

reaching the shadows

through trees,

fully embracing

wild grasses

and weeds,

as beacons of hope,

a needed ingredient

for growth,

highlighting the beauty

already existing,

air-brushing landscapes

with yellows

and white,

causing heads to turn

toward the nature

and light,

away from the

clouded thoughts

darkening minds

above the hearts’

subtle beating,

rising as a drumline,

beckoning us

to wake inside

and follow in line

from want,

to be a part

of the calling,

not knowing

exactly where everyone’s headed

but knowing

something great,

long-awaited,

is up ahead,

and slowly

but mindfully,

the soul pulls us

closer to that glorious

revelation.