To be like sand...

Alone on a beach, she is coiled into a fetal position rocking with the flow of the waves.  Rocking and wishing to become part of something greater.  “This womanhood is not working” she screams to the wind as her voice travels and becomes a whisper in the distance and simply waves further down the beach.  The words are inaudible to other humans, but I hear her scream.  I watch her as she gathers herself into a sitting position and scans the horizon.  Her thoughts lie in imagination and reality as she watches the setting sun with tear filled eyes holding steady to her knees as if holding onto life itself which is defined by her taut muscles full of expression and definition.

“Oh Sybil, why do you feel so?”  I enter into her mind and try to comfort her.  At first she shakes her head in an act of defiance as if to defy her own essence.  My words come more loudly the second time and she responds.  “Why have labels been affixed to me that I should be that which others define me as?  Why is it that I am not supposed to be what I am?  Am I not to feel?  Should I squelch all my emotions and not be a human in order to make others happy?  I am not a character with a predefined role in a sad tale.”  I listen and ponder these words and direct them back to her and she brings them back inside for inspection.

Lost in thought, I play upon her hair and she releases the grip she held so tightly to.  With her arms and hands now free, she plays with the sand picking it up and allowing the grains to pass through her fingers.  “This is time” she says as she ponders her own words.  “The sand was always here and will always be so in rock or gain form.  Be it rock or rock eroded to sand, it is still the same thing.”  With these words she lies back in a relaxed state while looking skyward. All along still allowing the grains to slip through her fingers.

I so want to hug her and let her know that it is okay to be all that she is even unto this world where acceptance is not regarded, however, my density is so thin that I only come across as a light warm breeze and a ray.  Again, I enter her mind with a question.  “Sybil, would you rather be a grain of sand?” She replies “I already am.”  With these words, she picks herself up and walks into the water. ~ Maggie ~ September 12, 2008 @ 4:35 p.m. EST