It wasn’t until her fingers ached with the holding
that she stumbled upon what her heart most craved.
Recasting flotsam into jetsam proved complex –
each snippet and stub, accumulation of a misspent life,
ingrown toenails like colonized barnacles on a heartless hull.
Which to discard?
Where to lay it down?
Her broken treasures had put down diseased roots,
fusing flesh to failure, marrying captain to ship.
Scraping at the splinters, mutiny of the highest order,
was pain more exquisite than the requisite lashes.
But unimaginable riches winked on the sand
and sang Siren notes pure and sweet,
daring surrender, demanding an answer.
Her cries of agony crashed like breakers
as her keel cracked wide;
sea air seared skin freshly exposed to the elements
while baubles trickled to the sand,
frothing like the surf.
Layer upon layer,
all, all became Crusoe to her perfect storm,
her tears lost at sea
with the pounding of her chest
as freedom stirred chains.
At last,
trembling,
spent,
she knelt on bloodied knees
before the pearl of great price
with all she had left –
empty hands.
This is superb, wow-wonderful every bit of it–and the part I related to most painfully/perfectly was “fingers ached with the holding”.
May we let go of the right things with courage! I, too, grow tired of the ache…
This is some of your best writing, dear Melody, and I loved the ending! God bless you as you keep putting pen to paper and fingers to keyboards!
🙂 Thanks, Debbie. Are you posting yet??? I’d love to know some of your thoughts on the new year ahead…
This is beautiful – the still life compliments to poem so well…(or is it the other way round?) anyway, simply beautiful
Thank you!!!
Sea shells are definitions to our different seasons in life ~t how I’ve often compared my life. How can you toss away a life season that’s shaped the sea-faring soul. Blessings ~Debbie
Good point. I don’t think we SHOULD toss away our pasts, or what we had to struggle over – but I DO think we should be ready to set things aside that are not as important as what God has for us – our fears, worries, expectations, that sort of thing.