Before you jump

Last night, I went down to the water just before it got dark. I sat on the seawall with my knees close to my chest and smelled the salt. The water was grey, but it reflected the burnished purple of the sky. How many times have I skinned my knees on those rocks? How many times have I broken myself open and gotten sand in my wounds? I feel rugged and ripe. I suppose that is what comes from living in a beautiful town situated on a crumbling cliffside.

I bruised the seagrass until it smelled alive.