Naked Comfort

Within seconds I was naked, and I'd never felt so free.

Somehow I'd never been before, too far, no one to go with,

but I knew the moment my toes hit the sand,

this place was made for me.

In my mind, comfort is not modesty, it's not hiding my body away. My comfort is the thick ocean air on my bare skin, letting my body bask in the sun, my whole body, every part of me.

Maybe a nude beach sounds scary to some; to me, it felt like home.

Chatted with strangers as sweat dripped down my skin; clothed or not, no one was hiding. Norms, expectations, pressures,

washed away by salt, sand, and the sound of crashing waves. A beach-side cleansing of societal shame. I was free, in every way.

Made my way down to the ocean, and the water touched parts of me it hadn't before.

It's not that different,

but somehow it is. The water surrounding my body, I felt whole, I felt seen,

not by others, by nature, and by me.

I splashed the way I had when I was a child, the way we all would,

if there was no judgment, no shame. I let the water and my nakedness wash it all away.

Feet enveloped by welcoming sand, water racing its way down my body, no obstacles in sight,

facing the ocean, naked, the whole world staring back at me,

I finally understood what true comfort is.