Taryn D
Sea Salt
Updated: Jul 13, 2021
I like to flirt
the edge of my skirt
against the frothing
mouth of the sea
where I come
to lean my weary ear
into the window of a
coral sunset
to hear its decree
My feet stand on ancient
shells and rocks
not one there
by accident
nor I
My grandmother used to
hold an old souvenir-shop
conch shell into my ear
with gnarled fingers
from working forty jobs
to feed two boys
We stood very still
in her tidy dijon kitchen
considering
the echo of the tomb
in the seashell
as it roared
and surged
with life
I had thought it magic
And suddenly
through decades
here I am,
my feet in salt water
I almost catch a drift of
the coffee baked walls
of my Buba's kitchen
in the briny sea air
where I am, again,
suspended in the
shushing song
of the waves
-- sonic ripples
from the song
of angels
Salt rises
to a misty swirl
and returns my hair
to its childhood curl -
tendrils by the
tender hands
of my Father
The clouds scroll by
like a music box melody
and the whisper of God
turns to a joyful swoon
as all of creation sings,
"Prepare Him Room!"
His symphony
rises around me
and in me
inviting me
into laughter
and running
The King!
My King!
He is coming!
He is coming!

“And behold, I am coming soon. Blessed is the one who keeps the words of the prophecy of this book.” Revelation 22:7