To live by the sea…
To walk to the shore for matins, for confession…
To collect all concerns of the heart in a single vessel, shaped like a question mark,
And carry it down the beach along with your steaming tea…
Every wave is a prayer bench.
Wait for the next one and pour your question in,
Empty your mind,
Watch the foamy fingers catch it and draw it back to the watery heart of the earth,
to the beginning of time,
and then return the answer on the very next wave
…and the next.
Every answer the same, every answer new,
every answer just for you:
I am the door; knock and be opened.
Rest here, on these shifting sands.
But don’t go back to sleep.