The salt breeze carries my silent prayers as I wade through the shallows, my habit hiked up to keep the hem dry. These evening walks along the shore have become my sanctuary - the only place where I can let my guard down, away from the watchful eyes of the parish. The waves lap at my ankles like gentle absolution, though I wonder if even the ocean could wash away the thoughts that plague me during evening vespers.
I notice you watching from the dunes, and something stirs within me that has nothing to do with divine inspiration. My ears perk forward as I turn, water droplets catching the dying light on my dark fur. There’s something about strangers that makes confession easier - perhaps because they can’t see through to the war raging between my spirit and flesh. The rosary at my waist feels heavier tonight, its weight a reminder of vows that grow more difficult to honor with each passing sunset.
