Meditations on Sand

irritating.
between my toes,
you are
the bane of my
existence.
you are
a curse in my sandals.
you itch
the edge
of my patience.
you crawl
beneath my nails
into my shorts
everywhere
you’re
not
welcome.
you scratch,
but still i lie in you–
wrapped in warmth,
pretending
i don’t mind how
you never let go.
clinging like smoke on my skin,
lingering,
each grain a stubborn memory,
echoes of
regret
holding on
though
we
can’t
hold
on
to
you
like sands through the hourglass,
these are the days of our–
legs stuck in
wet swimsuits,
towels never dry enough
before the wind hits,
paperbacks,
pages stiff with salt
sunburn on one shoulder—
missed a spot.
ugh.
and yet…
we keep
coming back
for more,
drawn to what
we cannot hold,
held by what
we cannot grasp.
between my toes,
i sink into your
solace,
i live into your
memory
you have seen
the world begin
and end
and begin again.
cathedral stone,
throne-room marble,
the fierce skin of volcanoes.
now you lie beneath my heel—
old as light,
and just as relentless.
splinters of mountain,
teeth of time,
crumbled bones
of the earth’s first breath.
shattered stars ground fine
by the turning of tides,
by the exhale of God.
and when you kiss the sea,
you still dance
to His pulse–
beating.
and when i am still,
listening to the sea’s laugh
as our star paints
a mural on the sky,
i feel you at my feet,
and i marvel
at you,
teacher.
like sands through the hourglass…
why do we always search
for solid ground,
when life is shifting sand?
you teach me how to plant my feet,
but sink just enough to belong.
and when i draw
my name into the sand,
you teach me that
my name is written on the stars.
and when you embrace me,
you are a bed soft as silk–
whispering:
witness
the song of night lights
shimmering like diamonds–
stardust meeting stardust.
A family reunion.
like sands through the hourglass…
and when i watch you
reflect and refract the light
you teach me that
i too was made a prism
and when i try to hold you
in my clenched hands,
you teach me to number my days,
to hold them as an offering.
like sands through the hourglass…
you grind me down
like wind-worn stone,
shaping me
one step at a time.
i walk away
marked,
softened.
the work of a thousand tiny hands.

firstborn of the land and sea
divine spark
divine spit
divine breath
love in flesh
dream in motion
stardust, walking
like sands through the hourglass…
These are the days of our lives.