July 3, 2012

• In Hawaii

  God felt my pain and spread my favorite orange on the sky, the ocean, the rocks. The black volcanic bolus softly gilded with my joy.

  But I wonder. Do these people who sit with me on this precipice also carry broken hearts? Do the tireless, violent waves also remind them of love's unproductive pursuit? Can they also see their sorrow in the lingering foam of the broken waves? While that gorgeous orange has chased away the ocean lovers along with the warmth, it has also chased away my nostalgia. Beautiful, gilding sun of my favorite.

   

   

  • 6:24 pm
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