To a Woman named V

Yesterday we walked the beach: a bouncing pup, a glittering cloudage, a golden sky, a raging surf.  As we scuffed sand onto our toes and watched the waves crash with sprays twenty feet high, I was reminded, in the most violent of ways, of the ferocity of the ocean.  To befriend the sea is to befriend the wildest beast of the jungle; she'll awe with sleek power and rippling mass, she'll entertain for hours, she'll tease the snowy plovers and reveal the slippery otters, she'll offer herself as soul-balm and liquid spirituality.

But make no mistake.

She is a wild thing.

She demands respect, she will never be tamed, she may purr and rub your ankles but she may also bare her claws and strike.

Yesterday we saw the family of a woman who's face I'll never know.  The sand shone bright, but their sorrow permeated the air thicker than fog.  Giving great distance, I bore witness to their tragedy.  The story of she, V, is not my own but today weights heavy on my heart.  I do not know why we chose that beach, that time, or that particular stretch of surf, but we collided with their sobering reality and something deep inside me shivered.

~ V ~

You and I were not meant to meet in this lifetime, but sister, I've lighted a candle and pray to the heavens that you've found your way home.