Silience

the ocean is the silent partner, with a short temper and a fire in its belly.

     thirsty for more, it washes itself onto the shore—shaking the sand from underneath my feet, creeping its way up my unstable legs. the ocean is a crashing cymbal—triumphant and ongoing, it leaves no question as to its whereabouts, only a mere question of when it will return 

                if it ever left, receded from the shore, i’d run the other way, seeking desperate cover from its unforgiving wave— 

 

but for now i sit on this deck, given, with a questionable foundation—i watch these waves pour into the sand and go right back to where they belong. 

 

 to see that fiery beast recede, to run the other way, is something so foreign to me.