The Patience of Seaglass 

Writing Latitude of Grace was like polishing sea glass. Over the years, experiences washed ashore, sharp-edged, raw, difficult to handle. At first, each was rough, marked by resistance and uncertainty. But with patient attention, holding them gently in memory’s palm, turning them quietly in the mind, edges softened, colors deepened, and clarity emerged.

I did not write to collect events or catalogue experiences. Instead, I wrote to give careful attention to what remains, smoothing each moment until it revealed its truest shape. Latitude is the spaciousness, the quiet freedom needed to handle these pieces without force or hurry. Grace is the deliberate patience, the calm insistence on waiting until their roughness naturally wears into something clear, honest, and quietly beautiful.

The intent was always to refine rather than discard, to gently clarify rather than explain. I wrote because some experiences need the dignity of careful handling, a quiet persistence that moves beyond initial discomfort toward a polished, truthful form. In doing so, what once seemed fragmented or unclear revealed itself as quietly luminous, reflecting a truer sense of self.

Seaglass

I held each moment, gathered gently from sand,
memories turning slowly between fingers,
clarity surfacing through softened edges,
colours deepening with repeated touch.
My life is polished by patient attention,
shaped to translucence, edges smoothed
into quiet curves and muted glow,
water-clear, breath-calm, luminous
from long intimacy with tides.