Does it bother you, the grinding?

Teeth marks left on bones.
The tideline’s broken shells.
The ground, subducting.

We could call it entropy, a shame, a disaster.We could focus on fault lines and fear — there’s plenty to go around.

what if,
instead of choosing these fragile, hesitant masks,
we see that we are
born of bedrock
and tide pools,
shaped by lichen
and riverstone,
we are actually
the quaking Earth, itself —
what if then we
never fully surfaced
to think of fault lines and Richter scales, but
became a flow, diving down,
breaking free,
emerging at the rift, renewed,
never really shaken to pieces,
but always just one spinning, concentric,

What if
instead of the
broken and imperfect shells,
or even the pulsing, charging sea, we are the play of minerals between the tides —
the dance of elements, joining and rejoining, never separate, never nothing, never something for long.

What if
instead of the graceful curve of caribou antler,
it’s gleaming lines marred by toothmarks,
we aren’t the rodent’s body, craving calcium, but its hunger —
a pure desire
which, perfectly met,
draws you forward, always
always moving within
the security
of now.

What if you believed
we are all of these and more, even
none of these —
and that
was finally

It is time to play.
Now you see
the pieces are always here. Reassemble.
Take this mask of subduction, and release the sublime.

In this moment, always —
in the shattering, the rebuilding, and the longing — we are the grinders
and the grinding
and the ground.

Categories: Uncategorized


  1. Tricia, love this one! I love everything you write but this one is especially magical to me. Keep writing!


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