I'm back from a few days away visiting with family. It's funny how just a few days can turn into a week with the preparing to leave and then the resettling once home again. Although the days away were a flurry of activity we did get out to look at the ocean for an hour or so. On that wide expanse of beach there were no shells in sight. I did pick up a few stones from the surf and dropped them into my bag. Back home, I dug them out and sketched then last evening. They seemed a good companion for this poem I came across a while back.
Tangled
We return to hear the waves
rolling onto the beach one
after the other connecting
us like blood.
We were listening long before
we came here, remembering
wind spinning salt through
interrupted sunlight.
This is a place where dreams
return as fish bones
tangled in seaweed.
Whatever sorrows come
are folded into the sea,
rinsed clean and kept
- unbearable secrets.
-Marjory Heath Wentworth-
South Carolina Poet Laureate