Walking Meditation Near the Ocean

Quietly I walk the sand
near an ocean of salty illusion.
The mist stings my open wounded self
as the wind whips the surface
into nauseous waves of this morning’s exhausted dialogue
about nothing more than ego
and unimportant tasks I wish to case into this big water--
lose in this terrible tide.

The undertow is strong here
and the warning signs caution against swimming alone.
All along the coast I watch others risk everything
to swim out into deeper water to find freedom
or lose themselves in a struggle worth fighting.

The waters bite cold at my toes and heels making bones ache
for something warmer, even inviting, to dive into,
slip naked skin smoothly through soothing waters and light
so a woman can see the bottom clearly.

Even the strongest swimmers grow tired and need a place to float
with her eyes cast toward the heavens and allow her arms and legs
and the center of her spirit to rest.

From these clear waters I can wade to the edge
to the place where earth and ocean meet.
Here I will find my sister stars, admire their courage,
before returning them to the safety of Neptune’s kingdom.
Perhaps here I will find my twin
who decisively case off this body so long ago into uncharted waters
hoping to find a companion—out past the reef of another broken heart.

The same hurts have duplicated themselves in these new limbs,
the spikes sharper, more to lose.
I beg a stranger to walk heavily on my fragile frame
and crush the part of me afraid to let go of the shadows.
Release me, fractured,
allowing the eye of wisdom to regenerate
only the embers of truth
into a brilliant heart
ready again
to love.