Bahia San Lucas
Everything is fading as I weave the seams of the shoreline, at first preferring the rock to the sand finding it’s way into my shoes, and then preferring the sand to the slick and unforgiving rock. The milky gauze of cloud that had hung over me all day is now fingers of smoke, radiating from the embers of my horizon. The sea takes on a different tone as the light retreats, darker in color and demeanor. Daytime dazzles my senses here, with cerulean waves, the flights of birds, voices, commotion, places to go things to do. As the day grows older, the world steadily shrinks into a couple of basic elements—the sea of the bahia, almost intimate now in the shadow of the mountains surrounding it, and the sky, flaming out at sunset and doing a slow dissolve. A wink from God, before the long night of mining myself. A big ship reveals against the sky. Part of the backdrop, it’s pilot light will soon be the only light out there. If it could race across the surface as fast as the world turns, would sunset be eternal? I’d rather not know, I guess...the phases of sunset are all worth the watching, not to be taken for granted. I realize that other sounds have vanished, and I am left with only the rhythm of the waves and the noise I make, scraping on the rocks, and in my head. Layers of rememberance come away. They will not fade, even when the light leaves the sky, even when the pinpoints of ships at sea wink out in the distance. In the darkness they will go to you.