Sand We Share

we bend down

scoop up our story

and stand

hands held out

with sand

we share

sand made of gems and shells

dust

and ash

sand made with the salt of tears and laughter of the sun  

grains of words

shaped and formed

by Life

blurred by Time

pressed with Pain

folded with Beauty

held out

in Space

i stand

you stand

We stand

in the midst

the world crashing against Us does not care

in my sand and in your sand

in Our sand

We stand

not alone

Baring Pain

Baring Beauty

with Our story

held out in open hands

of Hope

in this Great Space

for Grace

I scoop up my story and you scoop up yours and we each hold out in open hands of hope.  Sand.  We share.  Wet sand, soaked in tears of bitterness, grief and shame. Dry sand, parched with years of loneliness, fear and despair.  Sand that clumps up in the palms of our hands, creased with pain. Sand that layers with dust the fingers of our soul, weathered in beauty.  Sand.  Falls down.  At my feet.  At your feet.  Remaining.  Where we stand.  Sand.  Blows away.  Settling.  Somewhere. Along this beach we walk in the Land Of The Living.  Sand.  Sticking to me.  Sand.  Sticking to you.   But some sand...  some.  We are able to share.  Grains of words we pass amongst us.  Stories we hold out in the space between us.  Where we reflect on.  Life.  Baring Pain.  Baring Beauty.  Sand we share in open hands of hope.  Where sometimes, yes, some wonderful hard and hard wonderful times, we find that space.  A space for Grace. 

©2017 JWhitman all rights reserved