Ebb Tide

I think you’ve had one too many. Here, let me help you. Just sit down for a minute. Don’t whine. You know that feeling. This is our moon’s age-old game. Amphidromic cues. Gravitational pulls. For one moment. Put yourself in my shoes. Push aside your pride like its one of the tides.

You probably won’t remember this. You won’t remember right. No more than the 13 inches of hair I cut off once or the name of my first boyfriend. If you remember, you’ll yell. I have to be sure you won’t remember. Imagine this. Yes, close your eyes. The wave rushes towards you, painfully slowly. Achingly slowly. Then, it leaves. It always leaves. You feel that you might be moving. Not it.

Flood tide. High tide. Ebb tide. Low tide.

That’s what I feel when you yell. Except louder. Put your hands over your ears. YES, CAN YOU HEAR ME. Don’t flinch. It’s louder than that. It’s not graceful or brilliant. It’s not connected to a ball of dust poised in space. It’s fear, isn’t it. You don’t even know fear. You avoid fear. You avoid feelings. What is wrong with you.

Now you’re asleep and you can’t hear my questions. I’ve asked them so many times. Why am I terrified by this wave that moves. Why am I scared of this antique movement. Why am I afraid of the ground under my feet. Why am I frightened of everything. Why am I fearful of someone’s voice. Sometimes a voice can be music. This one hurts. I hurt.

High tide. Ebb tide. Low tide.

Speaking of. It matters to me when you hurt. Why does it matter. Why do I care for someone who only causes me pain. Love doesn’t have to wound me. Don’t you get it. Why do my insides ache for you. Why do I wonder what you’ve done with your life. Why do I question your life. Why do I waste my life. Why do I despise living life at all. Why am I crying. Life isn’t like water. It’s heavy. It hurts. I hurt.

Why am I fearful of water. Why am I frightened of what I can’t control. Why am I afraid to upset you. Why am I scared when you throw things. Why am I terrified when you raise your hand and almost hit me.

Ebb tide. Low tide.

Do you feel love. Do you feel pain. Do you have regrets. Do you have a favorite color. Do you have goals. Do you have dreams. Do you have songs that make you hopeful. Do you feel remorse. Do you want to yell. Does it make you happy.

I've been separating myself from you for so long. The ice age is over. The tides have returned. It's special to see the fruit of this work. And here it is.

Low tide.

It’s leaving. Again. I don’t feel off-balance anymore. Do you.