Edge of the waters
I always felt connected to the ocean.
Drawn to and captivated by its motion.
As a little girl I would plant my feet, steadily in the sand,
at the edge where the waves break and stare confidently ahead, unafraid.
Heart filled with pure joy. Excitedly anticipating each wave.
Feeling the water submerse my feet and watch as the water ripples while it pulls back. I’d imagine myself out at sea.
Dream of its beauty and wonders that may be,
across the waters.
I would close my eyes and feel the ocean breeze.
Let it take over me and embrace the relief I felt.
It was my release.
No fear,
no darkened thoughts.
Just hope, admiration and wonder in its purest form.
That was my norm.
As time passed,
my curiosity and love for the ocean only grew stronger and emboldened me.
I no longer planted my feet at the edge but would run towards the waters.
Deeper
and deeper I would go.
No hesitation,
no fear.
Eyes gleaming, my squeals of joy like echoes carried by the wind.
I would turn my back to the waves and fall.
Eyes closed, trusting…
that no matter how rough the waves were, it would always push me back to the shore.
The older I grew, so did my love for the ocean.
It was the best thing I knew.
I would dive headfirst, swim far out, where I could not even stand, my feet unable to feel the ocean floor
or plant themselves steadily in the sand.
Trusting, I would let go and float…
body as light as a feather.
No weight, untethered.
Sun glistening on my skin, gentle waves cradling and rocking me into a beautiful and blissful abyss.
One day, without warning, a rip tide pulled me in.
Under water.
Keeping me down.
Spinning, spinning
and spinning me around.
Fear consuming me as I tried to break above the surface, to break free from this current which had me twisting and turning.
Eyes burning, choking in salty water scratching the back of my throat, water filling my lungs.
Body weakened by its unyielding power, rendering me weak, unable to breathe.
Just as I thought there was no end in sight of this merciless plight,
a wave pushed me to the shallow end.
I crawled and pushed the rest of the way, gasping for air,
battered and bruised,
feeling betrayed by what I had once so blindly trusted
to be safe,
to be beautiful,
to be pure.
After what I had endured, I felt I could no longer believe,
believe in its beauty, admire it, and trust as I once had before.
As time passed,
I tried to visit the ocean once more…
Determined not to let this one experience define my love for the sea.
I return.
This time cautious.
This time fearful.
This time filled with doubt.
I walk out…
towards the edge of the waters, just close enough to feel the ocean breeze softly kissing my skin, and hear the waves break.
This time, not letting the water touch my feet.
This time, not standing steady, but rather ready,
ready to run, if need be.
Though the above may be true,
I still feel a pull, a sense of hope that the ocean is still filled with beauty…
a remembrance of the joy it once brought me.
The beams of light which glistened on the surface of the waters no longer shine as bright,
but still guide me,
the way a lighthouse would to a ship lost at shore.
I want to trust, to love, to float, to dive…
Maybe I still will,
with time.
But for now, I stand at the edge of the waters,
trying to admire; to hope, to wander as I did before.
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