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THE BEACH
Alone.
Digging toes in gritty warmth.
A long sigh of sensuous enjoyment - I lift my face to the sun and breathe
in salty breezes from the sea.
A broad stretch of sand enfolds me.
Time passes contentedly as my mind flits meanderingly from thought to
thought.
I become aware of breakers swelling and foaming in deep restless waves.
Of a solitary shell tumbling up on the sand on the last lick of a wave.
Of a heap of glistening seaweed left behind by a receding curve of water
which in some countries far away is used in cures and remedies..
Only the sound of the sea in my ears as I watch a seagull with a crippled
wing. It functions, looks beautiful, but can no longer soar with the currents
of air high above the sea. Is it in pain?
Reminding me not to be afraid to fly whilst my feet are on the ground,
dreaming dreams, hoping for magic as I have a powerful shattering moment
of empathy, of instant recognition within the soul. An intrinsic threat
to peace of mind. Later, half reclining
on a soft dune of sand ,while I gaze at the hypnotic beauty of the sea
merging on the horizon with the blue of the sky, so that only a faint
shimmer betrays the dividing line, I ask of you, my friend, "who
holds you when you feel like crying".
Drifting sand through my fingers whilst I watch the sun sink slowly spreading
hues of pink, gold , cinnamon and orange and the sea changes colours from
turquoise to grey. Its time to go. The knowledge is always with me that
apart from these few moments, time does'nt heal. It just concentrates
the pain keeping you vulnerable.
A breeze grows stronger making me shiver. I shake myself and head back
off the beach in the shadows of a gathering gloom.
Ann Phillips
Porthpean Beach, Cornwall,
October 2005
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