I can feel the strength, here, still.
Almost as it was months ago, standing, my feet planted on this shore. Looking out over the wide, empty space, to a point where sea and sky seemed one.
From waves that reach and pull at the land, with a thunderous crash, nature heals its brokenness.
lifting small pieces to new places.
Its hands laying a broad, smooth resting place beneath them.
Losses that, once sharply painful, are softened.
Gaps slowly filled with drifting sand.
And I look at this most lovely, waiting here, its roundness a testament to time.
And rolled over, again.
And know that it, too, once was broken.
My wish this Thanksgiving is for waves that wash sharp edges smooth.
And give unsettled stones rest.