The Beach

Written by: yesica lantigua

What a magical place, the beach.
Where there is no need to sing and no need to look back to the regrets of each day.
Where we can silently listen to what it is the waves try to tell
Where the rocks serve as the cushion where we softly lay down each painful         
memory, that even though they hurt we want to protect.
Where the past becomes jealous of the present.
Where we patiently await for the waves to carry away the message in a bottle to some 
safe and nonexistent destination.
											
Yes, the beach, where the cool breeze caresses the stress and sadness off our faces
Where crying in the rain is over-rated
Where every tear drowns a memory
And the waves crash against the rocks as if beating an odd

Where there is no need to sing, do you hear the wind? Do you understand its melody? 
Can you feel its strength undressing every inch of every scar time has tattooed in our 
lives?
The beach and its wide space where you can hear the eco of your silence screaming into 
the air whatever it is that makes you silently cry.
Where every ray of sun burns the unnecessary and painful thoughts that float into space.
Yes, the beach where the silence is invaded by the splendid rudeness of the wind
Where you can build a castle in the sand, be the queen/king, and rule the world.
Where we can freely unleashed the Black Stallion inside our spirits that we are forced to 
imprison.
Where you see the future shine in the polychromatic coral reefs. 
Where salt taste so sweet.
The beach where 5:00 A.M. is the precise time to live for an eternity and 6:00pm the 
precise time to leave it all behind and start all over again.