Yet Again
There by the ocean I pause.
Sea birds glide gently,
dip their heads every so often
to scan for fish below.
A tree branch appears to
cradle clouds that drift
with barely perceptive flow.
Snow melts under the warmth
of a mid-March sun.
This place is familiar
and so I reflect,
remember times
of ponder and wonder
as I walked, widened,
sat by the shore
on rocks that
have their own
slow history
of change.
There’s a stale tension
within me,
tethered to aspects of my past
I thought had unwound.
Later,
I listen, feel, speak,
cry
in the company of others,
though long ago I was taught
to be still.
The room is full of
acceptance and Love,
no judgment or disdain.
There is no wrong here.
I feel a slow shift,
a loosening in my chest,
a quivering awareness
that the inflicted hush of my infancy
was stifling
and never should have been.
Grateful for
earth, ocean, sky, sun,
like-minded souls,
and the vibrance, capacity, truth
of my very essence -
I reveal, reclaim, and righten
yet again.
Sarah Carlson
March 16, 2026
