It is unquestionable
as to what attracted you
to this shore, the light-beige
color of crushed bone,
where the motions of spume
push clumped seaweed
and husks of dead fish
in and out with the raging tide.
Now you face the sea,
positioned on the threshold
dividing the future,
set shrewdly before you
in a collage of thrashing brine,
with the past beating
windily at your back.
Wading deep into the rush,
you vanish in the wake
of one towering wave,
accepting whatever
comes next. About this
there is no question.
