Uncovering The Spikes Beneath

Art from the sea
Photo taken during a walk on the beach sometime in the last three years.

These sharp, spiky fingers are smoothed, and changed, as the tide moves across them, and then back again, twice a day most days of each year. They are uncovered and exposed for a while, and then the cold salt water rushes over them, running in and out of cracks; across their lumps and bumps; their points and wrinkles. Until they lie again in the dark, cold depths. Hidden from view. Numbed. Forgotten. As if they were never there at all.

Perhaps if the sun never shone on them; if icy winds and rain were all that were there to witness them; they would forever appear unkind, as if ready to pierce soft skin. To wound. Instead they ask us to come nearer, to get to know their shapes and how the sea has changed them. To know that they have been so many forms, even before this.

Then closer in time to where we now stand, to know they once had a purpose and served us well.

Therefore we are strangely fond of them.

"If I could have kept him away by paying money, I certainly would have paid money. My greatest reassurance was that he was coming to Barnard's Inn, not to Hammersmith, and consequently would not fall to Bentley Drummle's way. I had little objection to his being seen by Herbert or his father, for both of whom I had respect; but I had the sharpest sensitiveness as to his being seen by Drummle, whom I held in contempt. So throughout life, our worst weaknesses and meannesses are usually committed for the sake of people whom we most despise."

Charles Dickens - from Great Expectations