I’m sinking

 

down

 

into the warmth of the sand

not pulled out to the sea,

because the tide is out,

so I can’t fall too far

because all these little grains of sand are too dry

to really sink into,

and I am warmed for once

as I try

to remind myself

why I want to be pulled back to the sea

where the tide

is never consistent in its constant give-and-take

and maybe I adore that

blemish

that imperfection

of the cycling of the sea water

never being pulled into one way of being,

except always in motion

and I feel too stagnant these days

in the dry hot air

of being inland

where it’s all filled with thick, blossoming scents of jasmine and orange flowers,

the first openings of the year

smell divine

and yet I am longing for the cycle of the sea salty water

to wash over my toes

in that moment just as I begin to feel too hot sitting in the sand,

wanting the ocean to wash over my ankles,

pulling my body deeper into the earth

even as it caresses me,

telling me no words

but to feel absolutely alive

in being me

no boundaries,

no expectations,

no worries and lists to-be-done, but

being completely lost in the sea salty caress of the tide.

~ 

~ 

Author: Jes Wright

Editor: Emma Ruffin

Photo: Pixoto/Charles Lugtu

~

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