Thursday, December 27, 2007

In which the sea is silent



There is light in abundance now, though there have been summer storms.
Entering the sea without a splash, I slip along the sandy bottom, holding onto the corrugations, until I am under and past the rolling swell, all scales shining, deep in the sea.

The sea speaks not.

I listen, and hear only the vague distant clinking of things colliding, the repeated hush, hush hush of waves rolling along the surface.
There is almost complete silence, and it seems at this minute, that it ever has been.

Are you there, I ask.


The sea speaks not.
I hear nothing.

From down here on the sandy floor, I look up towards the sky, with not much more than a sand whiting for company, and even it looks at me in a startled way with one big eye and swims off. The surface billows silver, from down here in the blue, and the sea speaking not a word. So silent. I hold my breath for quite some time.
Air flows from the lacy fronds in my chest, into the flow of my blood: tiny rivers. The quiet continues.

Boats drift across the horizon.


On my return to shore, I turn to see one green wave folding in on itself, the sun flashing through, curling along with its plume of white. I frame it between my two hands, and press it hard into a shape, a concentration of the green, and the light and the salt, and form it into a pointed thing, a shard, like a piece of the universe.
This shard I plunge it into my heart: I lodge it there, where it will be safe. I plunge it there, with all the grace I can summon. I don’t cry, like a child, I hold it there, firmly.
A sharp fragment of green, embedded in my heart. I feel it with each breath.
I will hold it there, ever onward.

I can wait, I tell the sea.

I turn to leave then, my footprints thread the sand , pocked from last nights rain.
At the top of the cliff I look over the horizon where a million silver suns are shining. The stone that seems to have found its way into the palm of my hand travels an arc as I throw it, all the way, into the surface of the silent sea.
The words I say unheard by all but wind and water.


I head up the hill for home
.

14 comments:

meggie said...

Lovely words, lovely picture.
Foaming.

Isabelle said...

Wonderful descriptions. I almost felt that it wasn't winter...

jellyhead said...

You and the sea are soulmates, aren't you?

Beautiful writing, fifi.

jane said...

Just keep writing. Whatever you do...keep writing.

Bryan said...

I really need to get over here more often. Beautiful writing. Beautiful pictures.

I hope things with your Mom turn out for the best.

Pod said...

i could hear 'sea swallow me' by the cocteau twins as i read this. very evocative and cooling and bittersweet all at once.
i am reading 'lighthousekeeping' by jeanette winterson at the moment. have you read it?
seasons greetings blown at you from my sugary palm
;0)

travistee said...

good lord woman, i hope you are writing a book. your imagery is unique and breaktaking.

Arcturus said...

This posting was so beautiful that I took the liberty of excerpting it in my current entry that I'm now composing -- with a link to the full entry.

You are amazing in so many ways.

Also, I wanted to wish you a happy New Year and a peaceful and healthy and happy 2008.

It's already 2008 where you are -- kind of a strange thought, but that's what happens with time zones and the International Date Line on the last day of the calendar year! (It's weird seeing the "2008" in the time stamp on this comment -- since it is set to your time zone.)

CNN showed the usual spectacular fireworks extravaganza launched off the Sydney Harbour Bridge. We couldn't do that in America since the bridge/other infrastructure would likely collapse and/or be a liability issue, or somehow it would undermine Bush's War on Terror.

meli said...

happy new year to you too, lovely fifi!

Anonymous said...

Happy new year. Hope you and all your family have a great 2008.

ganching

Shauna said...

ooooh i love your writing so much i could kiss the screen. happy new year lovely fifi!

riseoutofme said...

Sometimes, its all just about waiting ... being patient.

Loved this. Hope 2008 is good to you.

meggie said...

Thankyou for your hugs! I have folded them about me!

fifi said...

Thank you all for your lovely comments....nice to hear from you all.
I am going to find that jeannette winterson book, thannks pod.

Lots of lustrous wishes for 2008 to you all.