The
image we hold in our minds
of
how things are,
is
not carved in stone at all.
It’s
a pattern
in
the sand,
held
by the fleeting tide,
and
washed away
in
moments
– those
anticipated
and
slowly building,
or,
shockingly,
a
freak wave,
leaving
salt stains
on
our cheeks,
a
sharpness,
hard
to wash away.
For all our loved and lost.
© Palitja Moore, text and image, Sept 2015
