Apr. 6th, 2009

faery_whisper: (Default)
I've decided instead of writing about my weekend, I'm just going to post something I wrote during my weekend and call it a day. So...enjoy. :)

I sit before the ocean, my oldest friend. The clam serenity I feel before it, the old familiar openness brings me great peace. I can be myself in her prescense. She has rocked me since childhood in her rolling waves. She has watched me like a mother with her child; protecting, guiding and listening. I feel a sense of belonging, as if I have returned home from a long, arduous journey abroad.

She is happy to see me. Her waves envelop my feet like an embrace. The sun glinting on her waves is reminscent of a soft, welcoming smile. The wind pushes me closer to her and I revel in our reunification. The sun beats down like a warming comfort as we settle down for a long talk.

She knows life has not been so kind since my last visit. She has heard as much from the bay and the rivers I have turned to in her stead in quiet contemplation. She knows of my moves, impending divorce, and continuous romantic upheaval. She is steadfast in her comfort and concern as I explain in greater detail. She knows my heart hurts and my soul seeks refuge in her vastness. She soothes me in the whisper of her crashing waves, much as they lulled me to sleep last night. I pour all my troubles, fears and transgressions into her, and she disperses them to little drops of nothingness in the depths of her waters. Her tears hit my face as mists from the water and I know she understands my pain.

She tells me that life is much like herself. It builds up to a great wave, peaks, crests, crashes and recedes to prepare for the next big wave. And, like the ocean, many waves may come in simultaneously or only slightly staggered and sometimes it is hard to prepare for so many at once.

She can not tell me what to do to prepare, nor can she fix the waves that have already crashed on me. Yet, she teaches me how to get back up again when I am knocked down, and reminds me that she is always here to take my problems into herself, so that I may deal with them clear-mindedly.

She knows my heart is too open and reminds me that falling in love is much like sinking into the sand as the tide recedes. If I don't keep moving my feet, I may sink too far and lose my footing and fall deep into the waters. Once my footing is lost, I may not resurface until I have lost too much.

Yet, she worries that I think moving my feet means jumping from relationship to relationship. She gently pushes and pulls my feet to show that in order to keep from losing my footing, all that is required is a simple step back...

The sun glints in her smile as I regale her with tales of toddlerhood, and she playfully crashes a more forceful tide into my legs as a mock scolding for not bringing my daughter to see her. She laments her pain at the loss of my mother who, like me, found solace in her depths. She assures me that my mother's soul is still felt on a beautiful, balmy, breezy day, and if I listen close, I can hear her voice carried on the wind, like a seagulls call.

She douses me with enthusiastic force when I divulge about my job. Her thrill and pride are evident in the sudden increase of tide. I know she is excited for me to finish my degree and start my life over, and she folds me over and over again in her tender embrace.

I turn to walk a little further down the beach as she turns her attention to some children playing nearby, but she keeps a constant dialogue with me as her waves gently caress my bare skin.

When with her, I feel small, and thus, my problems seem lost in the vast horizon stretched before me. Watching the sun lift from the depths of her body, I am in awe of her power, strength and force. She can bring great cities to ruin when her rage is incited, or gently rock sea weary sailors to sleep.

She understands my free spirit and wayward soul as she, herself, constantly changes each new day. She relishes my constant search for something more, but encourages a sense of stability by pushing me back onto the shore when her temper is too rough.

Before we part each time, she grants me a piece of herself to take with me and comfort me. A simple, beautiful shell, blessed with her love that brings me back to her side when I put it to my ear.

She encourages me to return to her soon. The goodbye is always bittersweet. I am her wayward daughter, finding new adventures and seeking new experiences. I wll return again to her, though we both wish under better circumstances. Her caress softens and the mist hits my face again as we bid a final farewell. We share one heart, one soul and we each have a piece of the other to hold onto until we meet again.


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