Gentle shuffling, tumbling,
currents flowing,
opening, closing, oozing,
knowing, bubbles floating,
soft insides trembling,
hard shell shielding.
Stomp, stomp.
Crack the shell.
No more fortress,
all is not well!
Pain inside flowing out,
only the shell remains.
The rest is finally free
to merge into grains.
Carried then by waves
onto the sand, hard still,
but oh, so fragile;
I lie in your gentle hand,
waiting.
© 2000 Joanne Sprott
