Salt on the Shoreline

Salt on the Shoreline

The sea remembers every secret.

It whispers them back in the language of waves.

I walk where the tide has been kind enough

to leave behind its glittering remains.

Once I threw a letter into the surf.

It carried the ache I could not speak.

I thought the water would wash it away,

but the sea has a cruel way of keeping.

Years later I found a shell shaped like a tear.

Inside, a murmur I almost knew.

It said, I kept it safe for you,

and I didn’t know whether to thank it or cry.

The sea never forgets, only folds.

It tucks away what hurts and hums to it.

And when it’s ready, it gives it back,

softened by the salt, but never gone.