“There must be something strangely sacred about salt.
It is in our tears and in the sea.”
from SAND AND FOAM (1926) by Khalil Gibran
Matthew 5:13— “You are the salt of the earth. But if
the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty
again? It is no longer good for anything, except to
be thrown out and trampled underfoot.”
There is ache in what remains
when the water leaves—
salt—
grain of wound,
trace of devotion.
Let the sting still mean something.
Let the body remember
why we weep.
I’ve knelt
on coarse salt before,
knees burning and trembling
before my mother’s altar
where prayer was something
whispered through grit teeth.
They said we are made from earth.
But when I broke,
it was water that spilled.
And haven’t oceans
cradled what could not be held?
Do we not carry
the sea in our eyes?
So if I am salt,
teach me
to be worth my weight,
to be seasoned with mercy,
to burn beneath the sun
and still taste of grace.
And if I must dry,
let me be
preserving.
Sacred.
Sea.
Yours.
