in essence

We were on our way home. You were driving and I had just woken up from a nap, feeling like not enough. I said we should go for a swim, told you of my thoughts. You said okay, sounds good, there’s a road coming up, how’s about we try that? Quick glance at the map. Sure, I replied.

Parked now. Camera in your hands, backpack in mine – 2 pairs of undies and a towel. We walked on the sand, first time bare feet this trip. The squeal of hot on skin, touching things. We fell into silence.

There were two men looking out from a ridge above the sea; condition check. Two more walked along the rocks to our left. To our right, open shore unraveled. Mind flooded with blue and white; breaking whispers. In the distance, 3 dots moved toward us. They grew larger as we waited, smaller as I made my way to the water.

You removed the lens, started shooting. Me and my black (white trim) Bonds against the rip pulling back across this scene of possibility. I stood within, a while, before diving into my past (I was born in this area) for a breath of before, emerging awake and shivering. The boarded men we saw only looking were now plunging, too. Into their selves.

Salt rubbed on skin which had forgotten this feeling and the sting on the side of my thighs raw from our weekend walking; Fitzroy Falls and Booderee. A ruined lighthouse stood at the back of our silence, this morning. The weight of a story heavy with sadness pulled my mind to reality as the sun rose across the swell of that special (place). You did not see me cry.

Running inside, running

now to the shore where you were standing. Waiting. Like always when I emerge from these depths. Catching. Forgiving. Stringing ruptured moments together like they were locked in your future past before I could even see them playing out. I stared through the lens at your selflessness holding us together. Saw you looking back at this honest, body (naked, now, all I have). Until temptation called my name again, and me, no hope. Back into that alone (apologies, my dear, must go, will return).

The pain on my thighs searing now. Hold. Like so many people do not. Hold. Look through these pins to the needles on tip-toe within, so small. So much more other people bear (petty pain, this).

The tide began to pull back tight into my sideways sensing it was time. To go. Or else, something of the too far going on for too long and I would be lost to the ocean forever, floating. Then sinking (how quickly things can change).

Brief struggle with one last breaker before sprinting, home. Toward you. Still, waiting on the edge in your stability. Where you caught me, there (here). In this essence.

© Kendall Kirkwood (2018)

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