Jellyfish

One jellyfish, two, three… dozen.

A funeral.

Quiet ceremony, where the sand is just softly wet, and all the seaweeds sing quietly. Just by the sea, by this line, where the waters are still present, but not wavy. Calm, but waiting, to lead them for the last rest.

I am scared of them while they are in the sea with me together. Somehow… oh, of course those Baltic babies are not stinging but still, they look so like fake boobs and it scares me!!! Just wakes up some kind of primal fear in me… still now, looking at them slowly coming back to the waters after all this journey when almost dead or dead they were rushing to the beach…

But now, I feel weird sadness.

Guilt even.

Because now they are so vulnerable. So eager to touch each other, to be together, to in fact create almost a carpet… Beautiful. So much inspiration in… death. Because they are dead. But also they are a promise for some new one scaring me next summer. So, for the first time in my life I pat one of them.

Added few petals, mumble some prayers…

Because…

Bye amazing creatures. Because my fear does not make you ugly in my eyes. I always find so much beauty in you. In this how you catch the light and hold it in you, how you swim, and how… you die. Together. You are beautiful. Even now when are changed into were… almost.

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