It Will Come

It's like those waves.

The ones you watch from the shore.

Your toes curl into the sand, your arms hold your sweater in place.

You stare through the grey.

You watch it rise like a wall.

You watch it crash like an avalanche.

You listen to the roaring.

You listen to the sound of cold and soaked through.

You stand, rooted in the sand.

You stand still like a sculpture and icy like the water.

You don't move because the ocean is doing it for you.

You don't breathe because the wind is doing it all around you.

You don't even cry.

You don't need to.

You just watch. You just wait.

It's just you and that wave.

It's just you on the verge of slipping into the sand, sinking into oblivion, inhaling salt and water.

Wait long enough and the clouds will break for a moment; the sun will slice through the grey.

You'll turn. You'll slide back to what you've ignored. You'll grip the railing and pull yourself from the sand. You'll shake it off. You'll let go.

You'll grieve.

And then you'll heal.

*October 2012