For People who hurt

Life rolls forward as mist from the seas, forward and backward in unending rhythm; the drums thunder from the seas and the earth mark the passage of time and beat down the jagged edges of our dark past. The spilled blood of slain dreams and bones of betrayed hopes lie exposed for only so long as bleached grinning skulls and cavernous eyes stare into the enless reaches of the sky. The mighty seas toss them about and eventually the bones are reduced to sand and blood swept out to sea where it fuses with the foundations of the world. Our bodies aged, our minds scarred and our hearts softened, we search vainly among the slippery teeth of the seas for signs of our ancient past; signs that though they be painful tell us we are still alive with memory and not yet succumbed to twilight and shadow. Even as darkness closes in and our search cast in into emptiness and doubt we are desperate to push past the growth that obscures our vision. With tears running down our cheeks in anguish, we cry from the pit of our souls at our failure to find these corpses of our past and sink into the foaming and violent seas lashing at us. A stone props us like a chair as wave after wave hits and receeds and our eyes grow fixed with emptiness. Only then in the last ember of the sky and sliver of light do we understand. All around us are stones covered with flowers, deep green growth that clings for dear life but it remains none the less. Though the fowers are delicate they do not break or bruise, they flourish. It is then that you realize that all the darkness from the past, all the pain, all the horror, has been swept utterly away and now only beauty has arisen, beauty in all its frailty, life renewed with all its tenuous existence against all odds and hopes, and covers with tears of healing salt and tears of white those very places you sought.