Hush, she whispered into my veins, I chose you before you were born into this life. I held your soul when you were too wounded to rise, and tended the ragged gashes in your heart, the ones that still fester from old lies. Come my ocean-child, my wild untamed one, and know that you were always worthy of love. You were not meant to shape-shift into another’s vision of you, or to be molded to fulfill another’s needs.
I was somewhere I knew well, miles from the pier when the relentless chatter in my mind quieted, my heart finally opened, and tears ran down my face to join the cold salt water swirling around my legs. We were connected again, ocean and heart, waves and soul, in some ancient sacred dance of communion and psalm. And I was safe.
She speaks in echoes and haunting tones, images and long forgotten memories, that mysteriously taunt and simultaneously transform. And when I am silent her words weave into my heart, cleanse every betrayal and scar, and wrap me in a web of brilliant wonder. Somehow doubt drifts away, and even if the path before me is not clear, it is at least no longer clouded in dark mist.
I walked for miles and miles on warm sand through cool foaming water while her words filled me, washing away my fears and worries and self-judgment. The light shining through her azure waves became a mirror, in which I saw myself as beautiful and complete. And loved.