The need to be…
I saw one stalk at a time. They were the color of fresh green grass newly cut then parted by the wind. All of them were identical, slanted in shape and ridged in form. I felt as if I could smell their sharp freshness through the window. I wanted to press my face against the glass and inhale. The dying sun was relaxed and splashed its delicate light where it felt the need. The leaves looked as if they had been kissed by golden lips, leaving a residue worth biting and savoring with the tongue. It made me wonder about aged things, about patience. It made wonder about art and its maturity. It made me think of coffee, first beans, and grains, then pouring brown liquid into tiny cups.
I thought about what it must be like to sit along the sea line just before night fall.
I imagine my pants roll to the knee. My ten toes are burying them selves underneath the semi hard sludge. I walk along the coast at night. The lights from the near buildings are my only guide through seaweed, rocks, and shells. The great distance is crashing to my right. Each time it lands it sprinkles out shiny little gifts.
Shells, honestly I have no idea how they are formed. They are all beautiful. I like the sounds they make in my pockets while I walk. I love the way they look stuck in my hair. I love to dig sand out of them or pour sand into them. What a beautiful piece of art.
But that’s not it’s purpose. It’s much more than a trinket. It’s a covering a portable house that shelters soft possibly fragile creatures. There is a power in shells. They are strong. They are sturdy. They are abundantly here. They are formed perfectly to hold certain bodies. God…is…amazing.
As I think back to the green, gold, and brown I am impressed by beauty. What captures me the most is the need for a shell.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5oSwj7QWiDI
April 5th, 2007 at 6:39 pm
I really enjoyed reading this, Tamar. Thanks for sharing.
April 5th, 2007 at 11:35 pm
Thanks for reading it.