IMAGES IN THE SAND
In the distance the
horizon joins a cloudless sky with an ocean tranquil and blue. A perfect
picture, if ever a perfect picture was. Alone, I sit. Alone on the sands of a powder-white
beach and watch the sun display it's brilliancy for as far as the eye can see.
In silence I smile as the kiss of a southern breeze gently strokes my
tear-stained check.
Splashes of sunlight reflect against the ocean. Yet as I gaze out, they soon
become the last thing that I see. Gulls flying high overhead cast their
silhouettes just in front of me as my mind recycles the aftermath of what was,
what used to be. I begin to draw circles in the sand. Images of how far we've
come, with no signs of where we've been.
A large fishing boat trudges through the stubborn waters. The men on board all
seem to be wearing million-dollar smiles. I guess catching the one thing you've
been after your entire life will do that to you. I try to think happy thoughts
to keep from thinking otherwise. But as of late, otherwise seemed to be winning
out quite often.
My beard, which I
haven't worn in years, has grown well beyond that of a five o'clock shadow.
After giving it a few scratches to encourage its growth I lean forward and
begin to stretch my legs, trying to disperse that ever-present tension. A
tension that now seems to have become part of me.
The winds have
started to pick up, slowly erasing my sand-made artwork. I replace those images
with more of the same. I pause and gather a final few lungful of ocean air
before starting out on my therapeutic four mile run. Before doing so, I leave a
message of unspoken words in the sand. A message of an inner pain camouflaged
by the cover of a fractured smile. A message to those behind not to duplicate
the errors of those in front. A message spelled out by three tightly conjoined
circles. Two made of sand. One...of gold.
The End.
Marvcus Delaney
Mount Rainier, MD