pawley's island

back flat on the hard, wet sand
the highway of wave and sea,
rhythmic,
roaring silence
and sound.

between honeycombs of straw,
the blasting, bright star of
sun
sings blue.

as far as an endless horizon can go
there only three colors.
inside them, everything.
all the edges of the world, all lines.
within it, all circles and stars.
within them, every shape.

Soaked in sand, salt and sea,
i remind myself.
i say it over and over again,
in order to believe.
in order to remember.
the gods' dream of me is beautiful and holy.
the gods dreamed me whole
and happy.

even this bracing against Her.
this somatic refusal to soften is something
i can allow
my time is here
my time to take my time
my time to walk the soft, easy path back home.
no more of the violent nonsense of squeezing my thick, full self through the thinnest eye of a needle.

on the way home,
i smell flowers,
my toes squish mud.

i lay flat on my back and
listen
to the roar of wind and sea
and love the bracing,
love the breathing.
love
all
of
it

everything