I’ve always been drawn to things that shine - sunlight on water, bits of mica in a rock, shells scattered along a beach. It took me years to realize that the same instinct can shape how we see people.
beguiles her to hope
that all the good in the world
is but a shimmer away.
Flickers of mica
trapped in a rock,
the whole not nearly as enticing
as the shiny bits
sleeping in the bed
of a shallow stream,
urging her hands into the water,
risk falling headfirst
for the thrill
of a closer look.
Iridescent reflections on a beach
littered with fragments of shells,
broken and made smooth,
send her into delight.
Pearly opalescence captured-
fragile, yet once strong enough
to house a sea creature.
Risking tide and wet jeans,
she dances between waves,
rinsing the treasures
that land in her pocket.
She is not the first to kneel
at the edge of moving water,
to desire what glitters.
Countless others have
staked everything
on the belief that shiny things
mean something special.
She knows this
about rocks,
about shells,
about people.
And yet she fills her pockets anyway,
carries the broken and the smoothed,
the fragile and the strong,
home, happy,
the memory of moments
spent in wonder,
enough to sustain her hope,
a reminder to look for the good.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Read 17 times
Written on 2026-03-12 at 14:08
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A Shimmer Away
Anything that shines draws her eye,beguiles her to hope
that all the good in the world
is but a shimmer away.
Flickers of mica
trapped in a rock,
the whole not nearly as enticing
as the shiny bits
sleeping in the bed
of a shallow stream,
urging her hands into the water,
risk falling headfirst
for the thrill
of a closer look.
Iridescent reflections on a beach
littered with fragments of shells,
broken and made smooth,
send her into delight.
Pearly opalescence captured-
fragile, yet once strong enough
to house a sea creature.
Risking tide and wet jeans,
she dances between waves,
rinsing the treasures
that land in her pocket.
She is not the first to kneel
at the edge of moving water,
to desire what glitters.
Countless others have
staked everything
on the belief that shiny things
mean something special.
She knows this
about rocks,
about shells,
about people.
And yet she fills her pockets anyway,
carries the broken and the smoothed,
the fragile and the strong,
home, happy,
the memory of moments
spent in wonder,
enough to sustain her hope,
a reminder to look for the good.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Read 17 times
Written on 2026-03-12 at 14:08
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
