Seasons

One of my favourite activities is taking my dog for a walk on the beach. It doesn't matter what the weather is like, I find the wide open space, vast expanse of sky, and changing moods of the sea inspiring. The best walks are often when it's raining. And I am alone. And the wind seems to whisper to me, words and phrases that weave themselves together poetically.

This morning was one of those walks. There had been a very heavy downpour but I set out in full waterproofs to exercise my little Terrier. Unsurprisingly, I was the only person on the beach. But the rain stopped and the sun came out, and I found myself reflecting on how quickly things change.

Yesterday, I friend asked the challenging question, "What 3 pieces of advice would you give your younger self?". I found it hard to narrow it down to 3... but one of the 3 I chose was this:
            Write down all your ideas, the journey is important.

There have been times when I was younger that I have felt ashamed to say "I wrote this" not so much because of how good I felt my writing was, but because of what I felt my words might reveal about me and where I was. But as I get older, I am less afraid to own the journey; to see that where I was, or am now, does not limit or define where I am going, and that there is value in the ups and downs. And I am slowly beginning to see that within every scribbled jumble of words there is some degree of merit. So I am writing down more; phrases and ideas that may one day be woven into a poem, or whole pieces that are waiting to be refined and shared.

This morning, as I gathered poetic fragments in my head and thought about how I was going to pull them together into something, I found myself thinking back to a piece that I started writing from the wind-whispered phrases on a similarly wet morning walk on the beach about 9 months ago. Before I write something new, I decided to re-visit, and finish, this piece. It says nothing about how I feel now, nor even how I felt then as it was written with someone else in mind. But that someone might now be you.

Because you said there would be seasons
I will wait in the rain,
knowing that the sun will eventually come
and these tears of mourning
will glisten with joy,
for after each day's ending
comes the new dawn.

In this season of searching and shouting
I will not loose my grip,
trusting that you will continue to hold me
until I silently find you
and open my eyes to see,
from my broken fragments
you've melded a whole.