Like falling on rocks.
Slippery, wet rocks, smelling of slimy seaweed
& broken barnacles
with the water swirling around them
& coming in and going out
Sharp scratchy places that make you bleed
So that you wonder what you're doing out there
& you remember clearly seeing how beautiful it looked from the quiet beach
& how you thought it would be better to stand out there closer to waves
& this is how we learn not to go out to every hard place that sparkles in the sun.
The fear of death will do that for you.
I am sure I have believed that I'm most afraid of people.
But, perhaps, people don't scare me as much as they should.
Not enough for me not do go out into the hard sparkly places.