Flesh made cold by frost;
The bite of sand beneath my feet.
Eyes made bright by tears;
Dancing goosebumps across my skin.
Hands made brave by loss;
The sting of wind across my breasts.
Slow is how I walk,
Down rows and little hills of sand.
Up the mountainside,
Where the sea is fierce and roaring.
Feet just on the edge,
Casting stones into the chaos.
The sea wanders here;
Beneath my feet and in my soul.
Salt is in my hair,
Kissing my face with bitterness.
The ocean knows all:
Of the gaping wound in my heart,
Of monsters and men,
Of things we cannot yet fathom.
It knows I am here,
And the reason I have come now.
Well-chosen last words,
The clever and intelligent,
Are not what I chose.
Instead I yell out just one: “Shit!”
The ocean hears me,
And I can sense her frothy grin.
Flesh made cold by lies;
Bones weak from years of endurance.
That has ended now,
And now here I stand on the edge.
Lips quirked in a grin,
Perched on this massive mountainside,
Arms stretched out to coming glory.
Half a breath and then–
Gone! Soaring through the bitter air,
Deep into the cold,
Splashing and flailing in Her womb.
I let out a gasp,
Break the surface like shattered glass.
Sudden and surely,
I emerge from the quelling dark.