Life is Short

some older stuff that's often worth revisiting when trying to remember who you are

Hot desert sun, feeling my skin tighten and redden and glow.
Clear blue sky, some days littered with fluffy white clouds in the shape of rabbits, cats, or a banquet of musicians.

Watching long spikes of grass rustle in the breeze, an ant holding onto his structure swaying with the force of the unseen wind.

Many times I'd follow the ants to their home, becoming a part of the community. Each had a purpose; each had a personal grain of sand or food to share.

What will I share? With whom? Where?

Riding to California in the back of an old yellow pickup truck, wind burning and chapping my skin, my hair became a complete knot of tangles like my mind. I saw the ocean for the first time in my life. Not one to wade gingerly, I ran into the waves and tried to swim. The waves, a strength I cannot fight, pulled me under slamming my body against the rocky floor. My skin broken, my respect for this force strengthened.

Waves like small ants, working with other waves, all with small grains of sand or food to share.

I am that tiny ant, the forceful wave, and the fluffy cloud. My grain is with me to share, at times too tiny to see, at times too forceful to keep, at times to fluffy to grasp. posted by Cyndy | link | | |
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