Like Normandy

June 3, 2010
Carry my skeleton down the rabbit hole of mourning and jubilance. My bones will be the tide upon which my sincerity and devotion will float to you. I am the great drowning waves, pulling our offenders beneath me, smothering them and breaking their bones against the razors and spines of the reef.
I will carry you to the shore where our bodies meet and soak you with cold relentless praise. I will cleanse you and bury you all the same. Disrobe you of your cold and heavy clothes that constrict you so, setting you free and allowing you to be warmed by the sun until you come back to me, again seeking my cold, dark enclosure. I am a fatality, but still my tide will carry you.
The fruits of the trees we’ve planted will ripen and fall, leaving us for their own paths, the same we’ve once taken. In the end, after the sun has gone away, the moon will rise on last time for us. Our swelling waves will shimmer brighter than ever before, and after the moon has set and the stars have faded, a soft glow from the new morning’s light will set upon us. And if at that time you should happen to sink beneath my tide, I will go still so that you never drift away.

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