If I Were the Tide

This poem was inspired by a question posed by Cassian Delmare on 11 August 2025.

If I were a myth
the salt of my ocean
would press softly
with lips
like waves 
below your surface

a current unhurried
yet known
tormented at times
by storms of the eye
quiet, though capable of rage
ever steadied by purpose

I ride foam
settling on shores
familiar, foreign
distant, disappearing
a shoal of intent half-formed
shifting and threatening
to vanish

then sinking
with struggle

your judgment
a false stand

it cannot
swallow me

today I ride waves
I wander, I search
I find shells of existence
lost remnants
of life unlived

in shifting sands

but I flow, I ebb
I wash away fear
and replenish comfort
understanding
empathy
 . . . footprints in the sand

your judgment
lingers in tide pools of pain
while waves erode your chance
to know me
but know
I am an ocean of empathy

if
I were a myth

I’d swallow you whole
and spit you back to shore

pure
from your need to judge