March 19, 2012

BEACHES …

Read: UMH #265

        With a cold wind blowing sand,

    Stinging bare flesh,
        a cold salt spray covering glasses
        so that you can hardly see.

    Low tide, as high as high tide
        Its pounding echoing the pounding in your mind

    Sand crabs scurrying, blown against their will,
        across the sand, looking for cover.

    Afraid of being overcome by the strong winds.

What trash and treasures wash up on the shore after the storm

    A broken conch shell that still impresses you
        with its symmetry, its beauty,
    Even though it is not whole any longer.

Humans, too, have trash and treasures on their personal beaches,
        Like the conch, that is both fragile and tough,
    Our broken shells can present a beauty and symmetry
    IF we allow the rough edges of the broken parts to be smoothed.

Like the small creatures scurrying for shelter from the winds,
    we too look for a place to hide and rest,
    to gather strength to come out again
        when the tide has regained its rhythm
        when the wind has lost its fury
    When the Sun has come out again, and Peace has been restored.

Lois Leineke
March 1982