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Beached
by Carol Aronoff

There's a way of walking the beach
just close enough to shore,
where the sand is hard packed,
slightly moist, so your heels sink lightly
but you can still skim along
without dragging your feet.

I wander the shoreline, smell
of Coppertone mixed with sea
wafting in and out with the wind.
The sounds of surf, of swinging fronds
and swirling birds form a righteous
meld of bliss and peace.

My toes nestle seaweed, thin rubbery
strands that cushion my stride,
stretch imagination. My arms sway
to coconut rhythms. I need to bend down
and touch something--driftwood, coral,
a bit of shell--I've lost my solidity–

body melting like sun's butter,
mind floating to that place
where sky meets ocean
and then beyond
where I meet the Divine
and truly pray.


froim her book Blessings From an Unseen World


 

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