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Shells
by
Carolyn Casas


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From earliest memories I was drawn
to them, white spiraled snail babies
the size of a quarter or a dime,
found in the lake at my grandfatherís farm.

The razor thin clams
didnít call to me as much,
but I liked to line them up at shoreís edge,
to check their progress by the next day.

Shells are coded into my DNA,
a message possibly from another lifetime,
personal gifts from the sea,
remembrances of places travelled far and wide.
Like a pirate digging up treasured loot,
always feeling I have found gold.

Their sea-smoothed softness,
beauty of design and hue,
my eyes can spot them
from a distance down the beach.
After more than fifty years of seeking,
I have mastered the seashell stoop.

Through the decades,
my affection for shells remains stable.
Shells, in bowls, on windowsills,
stowed in sweatshirt pockets,
a thread of continuity connecting me to the child,
girl and young woman I was before.


© by Carolyn Casas.
Used with the authorís permission.



Carolyn Casas is a Reiki Master practitioner and a student of metaphysics and healing. She is involved with two non-profit organizations in Central America which provide micro loans for Guatemalan women and education for Nicaraguan children. Carolyn lives on the central coast of California, where she enjoys reading and writing, traveling, hiking, and playing beach volleyball.


Post New Comment:
barbsteff:
?the seashel stoop! Wonderful.
Posted 12/01/2019 06:22 PM
labyrinth:
Beautiful poem :)
Posted 12/01/2019 12:09 PM
cork:
And I saw a sand dollar.
Posted 12/01/2019 09:12 AM


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