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  • Writer's pictureRAG

The Roar of Home

Let me tell you why I love the beach

It’s the most welcoming place in the world. The minute my feet hit the sand, it sinks in just a bit to surround them. It makes space for me, hugging every bit of me that I’ll allow. And as I walk toward the water, the ocean rushes forth to greet me, meet me. With every crash of the waves, the sea playfully beckons me to come nearer. The wind kisses my cheeks and sends a refreshing mist from the water. The fragrant air of the beach is freedom. I step closer to the water and it rushes toward me in anticipation. The seafoam tickles my toes, then my ankles, then knees, and then if I still haven’t surrendered completely, it knocks me into submission, and I can’t help but laugh. The tide moves in eagerly, and then retreats as if playing some game. The waves chase me to the shore. They splash and spray and show off the power of the ocean. They toss me about, but they also gently sway. They can rage and roar, and also slowly, steadily roll lifting me just enough that my feet don’t touch the floor, and I just float. There’s nothing like letting go and just floating, rocking side to side, listening to the lullaby of the breeze. When it’s time to leave, the ocean always wants to pull me back in. It always hates to see me go but is also excited for my return. When next it sees me, it will swallow me up again, cares and all, until all that is left is me, light enough to float back to the surface afresh. The beach is cleansing. It restores. It is what home feels like because it is home. It is lovely and free and where I can truly be me.


I feel like I'm broken beyond repair


Ground up

Into an infinite number of pieces.

I try to gather them up

In vain I labor

As they slip through my fingers like the sands of time.

Day by day

Grain by grain

I attempt to rebuild.

But I'm tired.

This action is meaningless

Yet if I

Still myself

Holding my breath for too long

Away I will go.

Gathered by the wind

And scattered to the ends of the earth.

Maybe that is as it should be

Perhaps I am not broken at all

Perhaps I was meant to be

Carried by the wind.


With reason and intent


With all the gentleness of Love


Into my destiny.

Take a deep breath

And let go


Maybe I'm not just full of water


I'm Made of water.

I feel the waves of my spirit beating against the walls of my chest

Crashing the corners of my mind



Yet random

My heart beats in time with the Ocean.

I am the Ocean.

My Creator walked on water

So can I.

Pushed and pulled by the current

Yet not overwhelmed by it.

The wind sings the song of my ancestors

They welcome me home.

No matter the shore

We are connected



#beach #ocean #poetry #floetry #ragart #writing #blog #rag

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