All origins from the sea.
All future on the earth.
All eternity in the universe.
All mystery through the cosmos.
All shame in the marrow.
All lamentation with the soul.
All weeping by the grievers.
All salt from the sea.
Just a thought 46
Ocean image courtesy Pixabay
Sharon Lynne Bonin-Pratt began her writing career the way so many others have done: by first doing everything else. Winning entries in grade school art, story, and essay contests convinced her to become a writer, but the real world intruded in adulthood and demanded she pay bills, raise kids, be a contributing member of the community. Along that rutted path she worked in the commercial art field designing patterns for surfer shorts, bikinis, and Hawaiian style shirts, taught after-school art through a city recreation program, and structured an art curriculum for three private schools. Ten years ago the writing muse, struggling to breathe in letters to friends and art articles, found its way to the surface. In a two-week period Shari wrote 60 pages of her first historical novel, and didn’t stop for three years. By then a second book demanded paper – OK, computer space – and now the third is in final revision stage. Of course, final revision is two words with a long shadow and a little footprint. Some folk claim they will write when the floors get vacuumed, the family accounting completed, the new garden planted. Shari is proof that all those things can be successfully ignored but not the urge to write. Her fiction explores human relationships, revenge, rage, forgiveness, redemption, and all the labyrinthine quandaries that mess up otherwise perfect lives. She resides in Southern California with her husband who’s learned to vacuum but not to cook. And the garden needs help.
Sharon Bonin-Pratt's Ink Flare 
Comments on: "Genesis" (21)
And yet we continue to weep. To celebrate each gift is a much needed reminder. Sending hugs
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Yes. I’m still learning that there are gifts in everything. We have to find them. I caught that hug and am sending it back to you.
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The strength in finding gifts in the storm of life, there’s an ebb and flow to it, you know. xo
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I’m so pleased you see this in my poem.
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I’ll just change one word–instead of ‘lamentation’, I’d make it ‘hope’. But that’s me and my rose-colored glasses.
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I appreciate your suggestion, Jacqui. I bet others feel the same.
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All WOWZA!
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Thanks, Judy.
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So beautiful, Shari, this could be a song!
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That’s a cool idea. Will you sing it? Please read similar reply from Betty Hayes Albright.
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Sharon, this would make a beautiful, meditational chant – one that unifies us with the universe.
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Wow, Betty, you and Terri Webster Schrandt – see message above – are on a similar wavelength. I never considered this poem as musical though I do read all poetry aloud.
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Guess that confirms it! 🙂 I didn’t even see her comment. But I could actually hear this being musically recited by a chorus, in my head – like an ancient chant!
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I’m trying to listen. Starting to hear it.
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another great one — tears of joy & sorrow, salt + water = beginnings & endings…
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The great yin yang, always on the cusp of turning from one to the other. Thank you, Daal, always with such kind words.
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sincere words ❤
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Beautiful, just beautiful! ❤
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Thank you, Sarah.
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Shari, there is a haunting beauty about this. Your finale, gave me chills.
We need to appreciate the little things. Later in life, many of them turn out to be the big things.
I am full of appreciation for this gorgeous write.
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Andrew, I’m honored by your comment – thank you.
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