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Beaches

I danced on the shore that morning, chased by the arms of the mischievous tides, skipped over the cloudy puddles, and stepped between the lingering ocean life and seashells. The cool morning wind whipped my face and my body, tossed my hair like the top of a palm tree, and forced my head down as I walked the outline of the ocean. Each time I turned to see the route I had taken, I found my footprints had been permanently erased by the tide, or the breeze had scattered them into oblivion, back into the infinite sand from where they came. The beach was deserted after the morning storm, leaving behind heavy, damp air, and huge, dark clouds that hugged the ocean so closely that I could almost touch them by reaching towards the sky. I was dwarfed by the elements, the sole survivor on a seemingly endless stretch of sand.

I stopped and knelt on newly formed beach and was overwhelmed by helplessness and insignificance. I knew I could not deflect the wind, reverse the tide, or dear the skies anymore than I could mend the wounds inside of me. And at moments I feared even to lift my face to meet the sand and the wind; it was easier to cover myself and brace for the inevitable punishment. But wasn't it I who decided to walk the shore, on a bleak path I had chosen? Wasn't it I who declared, " I have nothing to lose and everything to gain" ? Yes. So whip me with your wind and strike me with your armies of sand. Rain on me--the drops will camouflage my tears.

Chi Tsang

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