The ghosted fingers of barnacles

grip like stone,

their fisted fortress now a bluster 

of pale, hollow shells.


This is one view. 

Tell me,

when does boundary become 


Strength is not found in 

the blind grip of


but in the breadth of what

they divide.


Life is tenacious, 


relentless as tides


and as fluid —

even the barnacle waves securely

and is nourished.


Watch the sea rush in, 

teeming and circular.

As trap doors yield 

like valves

to the creature within,

a heart



Yurt dweller, parent, partner, writer. Knows some things about medicine, life coaching, teaching, and the wilds.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: