I rode the wave
Into the shore,
Thinking it might be fun
To let it have it’s way with me.
I tumbled as it broke
With a violent effort
It tried to break me.

Over and over
I tumbled
Tangled in the chaotic froth,
Lifted to the surface,
Driven down again
To scrape the bottom.

Just as I thought it would own me,
The wave receded
It left me on the shore,
Breathless and dizzy
Naked and scared
Sand-scuffed and bruised.

Laying face down
Hair matted with grit
I breathed and
I rose.
I stepped back from the edge
And watched.

The wave kept coming back
Washing up on shore
Trying to convince me
It had changed it’s ways
That the ride would now be gentle
And pleasant,
As it tried to grab my ankles
To pull me under its spell again
And toy with my life.

But the power was mine now.
I could dance on the edge
Or run from the madness
Of the breaking wave.

There will be other victims
Who think it might be fun
To roll with the wave.
Until they get sick of being left
Face down in the dirt.

The wave will retreat.
It may regroup
Come charging back into the shore
In a mad show of power.
I’ll be gone.
I’ll be gone.

By Deborah E. Dayen