
From the formless void
The clean, sharp light of dawn
Circumscribes the sea
That once
Very nearly
Claimed my daughter and me
In one great swallow.
Now and again
I see that grey wall of water
Rising to engulf us.
I see my daughter
Opening her mouth to breathe
Only to claim water.
I watch her swim.
I swim with her.
I push her away
From the indifferent
Tumultuous sea
Toward something solid
All the while knowing
I have no say in the matter
The sea will claim what it will
This is a riptide
We are nothing.
But the sea spared her and me
And I see the line
Between here and now
And nothing.
I am on the right side
Of that line.
I am sure.
Sandy Carlson Social