“And he said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while:for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat” Mark 3:16
Chaos, voices tumbling and tossing,
like laundry in a dryer, nothing but hot air
blowing and picking up desert sand,
stinging hot like glowing embers, burning
hot, stinging, like the churning acid in your belly
each heated hammer word smashing,
crashing, crushing concentration,
dam, broken, spilling over, crying, tears?
as you are torn apart
as they stand talking, crowding, asking
pushing buttons and starting the cycle
over, over, over, over again.
Close your eyes.
Open them and remember sand.
Cradling your toes like a rough blanket,
as the waves caress the shore slowly,
water retreating into the darkening sky,
and the wind blowing lightly.
The island is deserted and loud,
in the quiet way that nature has,
full of harmonious noise.
You are alive here.
You are free here.
This poem is for a friend. She knows who I mean. It was written for her, but anyone who is overwhelmed by life is welcome to stop and rest a while.