On [the edge of] Devil's Churn.

devil's churn, cape perpetua

There is thunder in the rocks. As the water violently churns, it quiets our churning hearts. All of the whens, whys, hows and the overwhelmingness of it all are tossed into the sea of forgetfulness.

We watch the tide come in and pray the worries go out. We wait, in the midst of such a powerful display of force, for there is hope for peace.

Fog rises up over the water and wets our skin with its cold embrace, curling up the rocks and billowing over the hills and leading us home.