The Up & Coming Magazine

Salty air fuels my heart with familiarity,

like I’m coming home again

after a long day

away from my destiny.

I touch the stones under the sea

the only bridge we still share

I throw them far as they can go

to send my warmth out there

The sea cradles birds

like a mother nurturing her child,

slamming in anger

and retracting back in sorrow.

All the stones I throw are my

message.

Please read them and feel them

every stone that I throw is my truce

I’m offering it to you,

take it.

the tides ebb

the tides flow

I pray to nature that

my bottled message

makes its way to

you

So here I stand—

Let our hands intertwine

and let our hands touch.

sandy feet planted—

Your hand is cold,

while mine burn.

I’m waiting–

Let us seal the truce;

I will forget every time I cried.

waiting for my message—

Every time I hugged myself after you left

I’ll forget the goodbye you didn’t say.

to be sent to

you.

This was written by our contributing writers, Ava Adelson from Boston, Massachusetts, and Haizea Valenti from Bilbao, Spain.

Image Source: Unsplash, Gracia Dharma