Together we sit by the shallow pools, a spent mess of blood and bones, heavier still with the dense grey of summer gloom. We wait for tides to come wash our weary bodies in the deadened brine of our past lives and loves. Landed as we might though arrive, the buoyancy of these healing waters cannot quench what thirsts brought us here.
We find ourselves no more joyous than before, if anything burdened more so with what we say to ourselves. Battered by the foamy wash, bruised by broken promises and finally, broken down by lies we continue to tell, nothing is left of the bodies corporeal.
But on these here rocky shores, the pull of the seas insists on connection. Undressed and unencumbered by our soon-to-be ancient somatic history, our bones submerge beneath the watery curlicues, into the placid shadows where sorrows and doubt tempt no more.
Led by primordial elders who’ve long since shed their sins and suffering, we slip along the currents into cooler waters still, and find the expanse we need at least to lay our bare bones to rest.