Standing hip deep in the sea
Is nice in itself, but the reason for being there
Is the wait for a big wave.
A wave rising, a sudden tower
Smooth with devouring power
But one you can launch yourself forward in tune with - and
Hurtle ecstatic, unseeing and breathless
For as long as breath can
Through the water and up along over and onto the sand,
Sand thick in your hair, jammed in every
Scraped, battered and rolled,
Triumphant, beached, deathless.
For this the saint prays,
For this the artist stares open-eyed,
For this the poet lets wounds bleed unstanched,
For this: this hope of being launched,
Controlled and uncontrolled
By what canít be withstood or denied.
(Or else you could duck under the wall,
Let it pass over while you count three,
Hear the boom of its crested fall,
Yourself unbroken, inactive, safe, free.)
The sea is always there
Whether or not you are in it
Standing hip deep in it
Waiting for the next big wave.
If you have any comments on this
Helweg-Larsen would be pleased to hear from you.