Ashes to Dust


photo by © Sarah Potter

I watch the ivy slipping her green tentacles between bricks, crumbling mortar. And water, brackish or raging white caps, it doesn’t matter. She slowly sucks the shore into the sea and hollows tunnels through massive boulders with a kiss.

We lay pavements, build foundations and walls, and erect iron behemoths to the sky in our attempt to mute her, to contain her. Nature always finds a way to reclaim what is hers. What has always been hers.

Like the remnants of civilizations past sandwiched between layers of limestone and ore, we too are destined to return, ashes to dust.

(99 Words)

For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneer Flash Fiction Challenge inspired by this photo by © Sarah Potter.

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