Waves

Can waves ever truly be a comforting sound? 
So loud, so wild, they pull and drag and shove, 
yet still their roar seems soft when it’s unbound, 
like fading echoes that resemble love. 

 

The curl descends, elegant, hypnotic grace, 
white shocks of foam in green and swirling blue. 

The seaweed snaps, sharp-scented, briny trace,  

as croaking gulls stir scents both sharp and true.   

 

Can peace and violence somehow intertwine? 
Is each a mirror of the heart inside? 
We hold our breath, then cross that shifting line, 
with quiet pride, there is a return of tender tides.  

 

We stand, toes deep, where silence hums and sways,  
the sea’s soft croon outlasts the harshest days. 

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"May your quill never run dry."

-Manda May ✨