This is a language
I can’t fully speak

but clearly
these waves break

the way they break
with intention.

I couldn’t remember
the topography

of this beach, thought rocks
not sand, misplaced

the tree that straddles
the void where the yellow

clay blank was bitten
by the surf, although

I’ve been here many times
as myself, and as someone else.

There must be a shallow bar
where the waves are breaking,

beyond that, the steely water
goes on and out interminably.

And here I thought loss
was the worst thing,

not yet able to fathom
a land beyond expectation.