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