Patterns from past lives

gray rock with white markings from barnacles on it

There was something living here, once.
Groups of little lives,
contained in shells, smaller
than my littlest fingernail.

Now, there are more
traces
than remnants,
footprints from the feet
of souls
long passed by.

Where did you go, little shells?
Did your souls move
on to bigger shells, leaving empty houses? Or maybe
they passed on, mixing
with the sea
leaving
only broken membranes of
white,
an open window,
yawning into the ocean.

There were lives here, once.
Now it is a rock,
fossilizing
on my windowsill,
a little ways in from the sea.

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Katie Harling-Lee

Katie Harling-Lee

Musician, reader, writer, and thinker, studying for a PhD in English Literature at Durham University. Interested in all things objects, music, Old Norse & cats.