SALT DOLL

S A L T D O L L


The ocean I stand in laps up against me and I am not made to last.

Granular, by grain, I become part of the start of me,
my creation,
my entering in to begin with.

I peer at this wide- open- place, and look at the evaporations and thawing of the many multitudes before me.

And, I recognize things now that I hadn’t before.

Looking backward I see my inception and how the ocean seemed so much smaller and less deep and darkly inviting.

Then, I stood at the Edges,
before the Shore,
and was crusted and became an incrustation of a larger being-ness.

It was solid and real and necessary.

But, that was waters and waters past, and the brininess is now
reaching my toes and ankles and knees and ever upward
and the sensations are

simple,
known,
and rehearsed.

I am dissolving too into the Sacredness of all our destinies and my
saltiness is emptying out through to the oceans of Great time and
Givenness,

where lay mingling and remembrances and murmurings
of a pure whitened
Joy.