Triad Magazine

A Hillsborough Community College Student Publication since 1978.

Grain

Where a million wet lips kiss my skin,
whispering prehistoric secrets of truth.
There, the water dances to the heartbeat of the ocean
and the sand molds the nonliving.
I find myself buried beneath the sand,
and it too crawls around me, making me feel inhuman.
Tiny grains, made out of rocks and
grounded up bones.
They who have seen the deepest waters
And the bottom of our founder’s sail.
They who have met the unknown
and the unkind.
They who cradle the sunken bodies of men
who couldn’t find their way back home.
There in the big blue, in the eye of the
hurricane,
I realize how insignificant my body is to the
ocean.
How a wave can taunt me
like a luring kiss of an old friend.
These waves have no mercy, no forgiveness.
I am but one of many who fear its majesty,
yet, I mean nothing.
I feel the salt tangled in my eyelashes
scratching away the gloss in my eyes,
and all I see is my flaws,
and the white foam that emerges
when the water rages and longs for its faithful lover.
It rumbles and runs with the speed of bird wings
back to the sand,
back to its home and safety.
Grain
It has the power to heal, and the power to kill.
The ability to mold, yet the will to destroy.
It does not care to know my name,
but It will wrap itself around me,
softly, like nurturing arms,
grabbing to my skin deep into my being.
It can feel my weaknesses before I can.
It is certain that I, and a million others
could not defeat it.
It knows who I am incapable of being
and what I am not able to see.
It learns the rhythm of my heartbeat
and it fools me to believe we are one.
But in the mist of all that surrounds me,
I heard its deep secret,
It’s one wish: to be still.
Its strength is its only weakness.
It cannot control its feelings,
it does not know how.
It does not know when to stop.
It refuses to let me go.
It will hold me and drag me to the very core,
slowly working its way down,
where I can no longer think or feel.
I slowly start to loose myself,
my home, and my dreams.
My lifeless body is deep in the
bottomless sea.
Empty.
There, the water will gently mold my body.
Crashing it from rock to rock,
wave to wave,
year after year.
There beneath the waves,
I too become a grain of sand.

-Amisadai Nunez

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