Riptide
The crashing waves of grief
Come less often,
But an undercurrent of sadness
Is ever there.
Like the cold water
Beneath the warm surface
Of the gulf
On a spring day.
Chilling,
But not dangerous
In itself.
But there is always
The threat that an undercurrent
Becomes an undertow
Becomes a riptide
That sweeps you away
To some dark place
From which
You will never
Return.
6 thoughts on "Riptide"
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Yes, the unpredictable force of grief. I appreciate how you capture the moment where it catches us off guard.
Thank you for your encouragement.
love how the rhythm of the stanzas catch the ebb and flow of the tide–with the surf crashing in and then retreating in spurts
Very relatable. A bit general, though. References to specific grief-inducing situations might make the piem more vivid.
an undercurrent
Becomes an undertow
Becomes a riptide
love how you’ve captured the building menace and power of grief that sweeps us away
Such an amazing poem, and that ending:
To some dark place
From which
You will never
Return.