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I walk this terminal line of grit, Learning the language of the tides.
A universal tongue most seek to speak, Others destined to be pulled by the rip.

But to live with the waves is an entirely different task. A talent taught by the sea’s lifelong inhabitant. You’ll find the her wedged between a bed of neighbors, Every creature flaunting unique armor.
So, to survive the sea, let's learn from the oyster.

Being born is a vulnerable time for the oyster. With no shell, she has to learn how to protect from prey for the first few hours of her life, with the oncoming realization it’s not something she can so easily do in her supple state. Little by little, she begins to let her guard down. Sanity settles as her thin shell grows. But drifting the deep blue alone was too bold, she needed mollusks to mingle. Bouncing from reef to reef she met many others: some spiked & weathered, others were small & deep, some reflected the sea brilliantly, others were flat & flakey. Deciding where to rest her malleable shell was ever so daunting. Attempting to prove to herself that solo survival was an option, her collection of dents and bruises grew, along with the knowledge that the waves couldn't be tamed by just one oyster. She had to become a part of something bigger.

Her pickiness paid off as her search came to an end, and oh my did these oysters intrigue! Their intense edges and visceral carvings gave character, and she could already sense the luminosity gleaming from the soft inner lining of their shells. She admired how they all fit together, yet held their own space on the reef. With little to no hesitation, she nestled her nose. Now being with a bed made her realize how important it was to hold autonomy for her own shell: protection, identity, movement, mortality. But, no matter how hard she tried to be her own conductor of calcification, the inevitable protrusion and deflation of her shell was often influenced by her mollusk mates. With how many rules there were being an oyster and part of a big oyster bed, it was almost forgotten that the language of the tides was still a lesson to be learned. All the creatures of the sea had the duty of learning to live with the waves.

Her jagged hardware grew and grew, but the vast ocean brought natural irritants, with some breaking through to her spongy center. The parasites poked and pestered until she almost fell, exhausted from internal brawling battles. With a shell not yet shattered, something had to be done. A secret kept by the sea was a gift for the oyster, part of the language she was absorbing. The shiny secret was one not known by other creatures of the sea, as nacre was reserved for the ones who had to learn to build their own shell. `

It was May when her little body was plucked from the sea. She surrendered to the callused hands of the fisherman, full of faith, sand, salt, and her iridescent heart that with enough power and patience became an indestructible delicacy. Her travels in the deep blue came to an end, and suddenly shucking day was knocking at her shell. Cold. Clamp. Twist. Pry. Slice. Serve. And there it was: her heart, in her soon-to-be-swallowed body.

Her heart now resides on a string next to her reef mates', as they also faced the same oyster fate. But because of their pearled powers that the sea bestowed upon them, they got to leave something of value behind, nacre to necklace, all because they learned the language of the tides.