He told me about the deepest kind of hurt, a pain that ambles and drifts because

it seeks a comfortable familiar

how it insinuated at first, the subtle intruder that hides for as long as is permitted

but then like a walk on the beach, he breathed and confronted it

let it go, they advised, sounding as though it was easy or even possible

and he wondered why he clutched it still and wouldn’t relent

but then like a walk on the beach, he weighed whether it might instead remain

that deepest kind of hurt, the one below that surveys in night and beckons your fright

but then like a walk on the beach, he negotiated, posed the very question to it

recognize this, he thought, and understand what it is and only is and remember it always

and then like a walk on the beach, he moved closer to the sea and let it take him

out

and then back in.