Shoreline (Pilgrim’s Haven)

Waiting for the hard things to be smoothed with time

I walk along the shoreline
My feet sinking with every step
As I toe the ever-shifting line between
Solid ground and
Open water

I stoop to pick up bits of rock and glass
Hard things, sharp things
Smoothed and shaped
By the crash of the waves and the grit of the sand
By movement and time

If I fill my pockets with these things
Will they weigh me down as I walk on?
Or will I be comforted by their weight
As I reach into the darkness to brush my fingers over
Each smoothed piece