Whispers in the Sand

There's a sea humming inside every shell.

Listen, and the waves may speak to you. 

But it's hidden in plain sight. 

And its voice fused with the cacophony of all times. 

Listen, intently, curiously; but not to learn anything new, or unveil secrets. 

Listen to that hum, 

it's the force of the ocean. 

It's the primordial murmur of your heart. My heart!  

-

A wave washed me awake.

The sun's now a bright red spot,

but I still feel its warmth reaching out from across. 

It's time to return.  

-

I looked around for a souvenir to carry this moment to her.  

Something to hold the ordinariness of this air, the sea and its glow.  

Like a shell. 

And so I started sifting through the dark monazite sands, 

searching for the perfect piece. 

-

Wandering along the coast,  

I witnessed the layers of many lives

unfold and happen around me.  

There was a lifeguard in a yellow vest,  

patrolling the shore, armed with a red flag and a whistle.  

The sea here is capricious, with deep and violent undercurrents.  

Like an oracle, he prophesized a certain doom to all who shall dare enter.

At the edge of the last wave stood the tourists.  

And the wave and people swayed  

like they were locked in a cadence.  

There were also children flying kites.  

Families finding each other. 

People searching for themselves.  

And humans trying to find their way.

And there was I, searching for a seashell,

to conceal my heart in it. 

-

Finally, I saw something shiny in the sand, half buried.  

It almost reflected the crimson sun.  

I walked to it, elated that now I had found the perfect piece.  

And there it was, a plastic scoop,

one from a million litter scattered across the sands.  

Refusing to break down for another thousand years. 

-

I couldn't find a seashell. 

But, on the search, I have felt something simple, something precious. 

And I reach out through these words,

for they are my seashells, for you.  

- Harishna 

28/03/24, Thursday