Voice of the Shore

The waves...

God I wish
The waves ...the waves... the waves...

Would stop

I hear them coming
Rumbling in the distance
And try to brace myself

Some are gentle
Shy and foamy
They skim my surface
And slip away

But then there's
You

Who pounds me into particles
And takes
Little pieces
Like pride
Away with you

Somehow I continue
To be whole
Or at least appear so
Although
I'm disintegrating

Beneath you

Apples

I don’t remember picking these fruits
But they seem to have been gathered
Or maybe they picked me

Delicious, juicy love, exploding, too sumptuous to eat
Granny’s wisdom, crisp and tart, cold against my teeth
Galas of regret, soft and yielding, apologetically sweet

How did it grow so heavy, this basket?
Maybe someday I should stop and ask it

I believe this load will only lighten
If I toss them all
Each that I’ve carried with me so long
Scatter them along a path that widens
The further I go on

But then I’ll spend my time weighted down
Walking with my face turned around
Seeing an aisle of wasteful rot

Trying to pass
A past that survives
To gorge on my very core

The only freedom of my burden will come
When I consume them,
One by one
Until I’m full to bursting of that
Which was

But is now
Admittedly
Gone

And then, they will become me
And then, they will fulfill me
And then they will sustain me

As my basket fills again

An Educated Heart

We learn to love
Not from those who love us
But from those who refuse to.

I was taught by the Masters.

The art of absence
The science of distance
The discipline of the silent witness.

An open heart
Will fill with facts
And seal itself with knowledge.