In the early morning hours, I found myself washed upon the shore. My tears crept down my face and drip-drop…into the tide it fell. My fingers push and pull the crushed shells to sculpt words that will mean nothing again…forevermore. I opened my mouth and felt the ocean slip down my tongue and into my chest in hopes to drown the pain burrowed deep inside. It was then between the heartbeat moments of gasping for air and drinking my sorrows when I noticed something swirling around beside me.
A single white feather pirouetting just…out…of…reach.
My breathing becomes shallow as my heart begins to dance to the rhythm of 1,2,3 and 1,2,3 as my minds drifts back to the past. I refocus my eyes on that feather. I want so badly to reach out and touch it…just to hold it for a moment, but I am afraid I would break it like I do so many other delicate things.
At first I believed I should touch it because of its beauty but if truth be told, it was because it reminds me of myself. Like a relic from my past of something I once lost but now regaining.
I am like that lost feather who is no longer a part of something whole and not quite alone either. I part my lips to caress the pinna with my breath which allows it to lift into the air and swirl and twirl above the fingers of the salt water below. I then inhale to bring it closer and be a part of me…a symbol of what’s to come.
The beautiful feather now dances in time with my heart and with each step it writes words I could never find before. It grows and allows me to fly so I can explore new paths. It lifts me up so I can soar once more. Then in those times of stillness, I cradle my feather in my hand to caress moments so I can treasure them. When I tire I put my head down and dream….
lift me up so i can be
a drifting feather
in the twilight ocean skies