I_S_L_A_N_D_S
{ The Dinghy}
I was born on an island.
Dug up from its earth; swaddled in its thick vines.
Its languid days stretched into inky nights, like a many-colored thread unraveling endlessly from its spool.
The island grew me wild and strong like strange sweet fruit. My soul shifted like sand; flowed like water.I answered only to the sun and moon.
I wallowed in the warm sand; slipped my fingers and toes deep down into the cool dirt, let the grains slip through they sizzle and pop as they fall.
The canopy tossed my voice back to me, quivering as the words bounced from trunk to trunk until they warp and fizzle out and soak into the soft soil.
I built a castle with a seashell throne. Decorated in pearls and kissed by the sun. I ran through the trees singing and dancing and shouting on high.
~~~
One day, as I walked along the beach after high tide looking for shells I spotted something washed ashore. Something that made my stomach churn with the tide.
A dingy dinghy.
The bow cut through the wet sand like a knife. The waves shatter against the sun-bleached hull threating to carry it back out with them.
I pull the boat onto the beach. The bow continues to rip through the wet sand and leaves a jagged trail.
I stare at that little boat for a long while. Its worn with obvious scares from being thrown around at sea, but its still all in one piece...
A crash landing on the only planet in the whole galaxy.
An impossibility.
The knotted wood gawks back at me.
Eyes like mine, except unblinking.
Expectant.