by Aaluk Edwardson
crash. tumble. still. The waves come in, loud and crashing, onto a cold and rocky beach. As they recede they are followed by a cascade of small still-wet rocks. Tumbling down, they sound like an echo of the wave that has just refreshed the shore. crash. tumble. still. The rocks, small and slick fall together as if reaching back to what came before. I sit close, watching not wet but immersed. crash. tumble. still. I spot a moment in between. A pause, maybe for reflection. The waves recede, and in their leaving, silently beckon as they journey back into the changing waters of the sea. Then do the rocks immediately follow tumbling down as if to say: come back. Until effortlessly the rocks stop. The sound of tumbling echoes quickly away. In this moment, the waves are still. In this moment, the rocks sit. In this moment, there is not what came before and there is no after. In this moment, there is just this moment. crash. tumble. still. The next moment comes and with it a new wave. The rocks and the shore are engulfed. Refreshed. By new waves of change that carry with them momentum from the sea.
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