What to mourn

Sometimes in the sun, on the beach,
I break into a sweat,
As my shorts fall to the ground.
Surrounded by eyes.
My five toes clench around each grain of sand.
Sink your toes in.
Just don’t fall.
My knee bends toward the water,
And I sit.
My palms pounding the sand,
My left heel digging in deeper.
I move forward
Because I long for the water.
The waves caress my scar
A few inches above what once was
My right knee.
This scar doesn’t hide from the sun.
I push farther out, until the waves are tall,
Enough for me to stand,
And then turn around,
To see
How far I’ve come.
My left leg kicks hard,
As I move backwards, deeper,
Losing touch with the sand.
Treading.
Now afloat.
My eyes grow puffy,
And as I taste the wet salt falling down my lips,
I wonder what there is to mourn.