WL the sound- churning spray

churn spray

Amy whispered to Sophie over the never-ending chant, "Grandma, has anyone else ever heard the chanting? Do you think Mom or Dad can hear it now?"

Kit stood up in the pew and looked back at Amy and Sophie. She patted Richard's hand and went down the aisle toward them, carefully not looking in the direction of the coffin.

"You aren't telling her about the chanting again are you, Mother?" Kit asked Sophie. "Honestly, the way the legends grow around here. How many times do I need to explain to you two that the sounds you hear are only in your imagination?" Kit folded her arms and peered down at them between the yellow wood pews of the funeral chapel.

"If the sounds and the stories aren't real, then why do you take so much energy to fight them?" Sophie stood up and took of her glasses, cleaning them on her blouse sleeve.

Kit shook her head at this and held on to the pew, the white of her knuckles showing hard against the grain. "Mother, if you are going to tell my daughter about what happened, tell her the whole story. Tell her the truth the way it isn't in your fairy stories, the way it isn't in her history books. I won't have my children growing up on half heard legends. Tell the truth. For once. No one in this family ever tells the truth." Kit said.

"Not now. Funerals are the time to think on triumphs--things that should follow the body into the grave." Sophie countered.

"Funerals are the time for telling the story like it is," Kit retorted. "For explaining that when the water crashes into the rocks, it breaks apart. It loses. If you won't finish the story, I will."

Amy stood up too and ushered them out of the chapel. "If you insist," she said. "you can tell the whole thing out here."

Kit nodded and followed her out.

waves hunch / and crest / in empty air / strike madly on / the shore forever / churn spray / retreat to / breathe again

the word is / the sound / of water / dripping from/ ancient symbols / tiny particles / of merging / realities