Salt-air Absolution
Under cerulean stained glass skies,
I bathe my soul in sand and sun,
anointed with salt water.
Playing like a child in the breaks,
I surrender to the flow of the tide
as it chases and retreats:
a frigid game of tag; then collapse
into the cradled curve of dunes,
bury sea-numbed toes in their warmth.
Beyond the veil of closed eyelids,
the seagull's cries become hymns
as my burdens release: the
worries of not being quick enough,
not quite good enough,
swept out on ebbing waves of grace.
I'll wrestle my demons tomorrow.
Right now I have sand in my toes
and salt on my skin,
and the ocean is roaring
its ancient prayer in my head.
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