Sand - June 12 2022

 

Sand

June 12 2022

Life is alluvial.

There is the line in the sand.

How we confined ourselves,

drawing boundaries

or imagining them,

only to find how easily

even a gentle breeze could erase

all evidence of their existence.

There are the sands of time.

The hourglass

we ignored

relentlessly emptying,

the silky sound

of smoothly flowing sand

we were wilfully deaf to.

Because, back then

the fullness of time

seemed bottomless.

And then the folly

of building on sand.

Our foundational beliefs

that didn't so much harden

as brittle;

so all it took

were a few days of hard rain

to wash the ground from under our feet.

But all I can think of

is lying by your side

skin-to-skin

on the beach that day,

fine brown sand

soft and warm against our backs,

hot sun

on our naked bodies

'til we could no longer stand the heat.

Then into the sea,

feeling the gritty little particles

that had mixed with our sweat

sluice off

in cool clear water.

And in its buoyant salt

feel all the weight we've been bearing

lift.