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Tuesday, July 2, 2013
No Photos Today
Head bowed witnessing the broth of life and death tumbling tiny heart-shaped pebbles onto the beach, same stretch I'd trod less than twenty-four hours before. Choosing a few stones, to cradle in my left fist, firm for safekeeping. Walking on, knowing nothing is as safe as we wish it could be. Uncertainty; a stain we live with, dark oily patterns, dangerous beauty painted on the surface of sands shifting ceaselessly, visible residue revealing the force of tidal energy and fate.
No photos today.
Just yesterday a murmuring was heard rising above the hush,
(--that is what the ocean says if you really listen, “hush”)
waves crashing and people stood still in ragged lines,
near frantic lifeguards fluttering flags like angry
birds rapid semaphore up and down the coast
as the white fin sunk lower in slow motion,
imagine an enormous shark, then
the wing of a small plane tipped
upward in the cold vast sea.
Two men swallowed
a mile off shore.
I walked the jagged edge of waterline cautious as children darted in and out of the ocean. My eyes searching for parents, wanting them near, my own mother-fear longing to protect blond ringlets and mops of auburn hair clinging to soft ruddy cheeks, insulate them from uncertainty, that stain we all must live with, sinking in slow motion with a white fin remembered. Once those men were someone’s children. Tears slipped down my face dried instantly carried away to join the broth of life and death, giver of tiny heart shaped pebbles, smoothed by time, the force of tidal energy and fate.
No photos today.
I know I said I would only offer I Heart Macro posts for the next few weeks, taking care of business, but sometimes the words flow, a self-healing balm when my heart is aching. It was one small plane. Two people. I did not see it fall from the sky, the roaring hush of the ocean and thoughts in my head were too loud. But I did see the wing jutting up through the waves several blocks down and a mile out to sea, around 4pm on the first of July. There are so many sad things in the world, many happening to friends, people I love, challenges I hold close to my heart in prayer with deep compassion. Sometimes the distance granted in writing about strangers (who don't feel so separate or strange, having felt the power of group astonishment after such an event) allows release from the other sadness’s I cannot share; that would be inappropriate to announce publicly. We are at the beach for our annual kids week gathering, sister-mothers and our now mostly grow-up cousin "kids." I do have the pebbles I collected; perhaps I will photograph them and upload them when I return home. We’ll see what feels right later, for now they are little vessels of sacred memory for me.
Tell everyone you love that you do. Tell them every day. Even if they are mad at you and you're not sure why, or you're angry with them and the reason in this moment seems clear. Just tell them anyway.