The sea

Life gave me some time with her.

I tasted her sweetness, came to know her fears and insecurities.

I felt things I had never felt before—or perhaps I simply didn’t know how to name them when I did.

I was calm, captivated, sailing the tranquil sea of her tenderness,

when suddenly the weather turned

and I encountered the coldness of her storm.

It was a brief voyage, but an intense one.

I watched my boat of expectations split in two

by the harsh waves of reality.

I was left adrift, floating among confused feelings

and an involuntary solitude.

After the storm came the calm.

With a bit more clarity and a wider field of view,

I gathered some wreckage—just enough to stay afloat.

I was still okay, but different.

Now I knew what the sea was capable of.

The sea is not to blame.

Like certain women—or like life itself—

it does not act with cruelty out of malice,

but because it cannot be anything else.

The sea is still there.

And so am I.