Waves

Written 10/29

My fingers retraced words, like waves, today.
I wished that I could swallow them back up, and dam the flood,
Take them all back. Start again.
You were right, when you approached me, your arms outstretched.
Seeking me as a confidante,
You were frightened, seeking help, an arm, an ear, a shoulder,
And I - I unleashed a beast on you,
And the rage I let seep out and cover you and swallow you whole
Was the most unkind and unfair thing
I could have done.
I could have listened quietly and kindly and taken your hand.
Instead I pushed you further away.
I don't say that I blame myself, or you,
For these oceans between us -
These tempestuous seas we've attempted
To drink up to find each other, find ourselves. No more apologies are needed -
But there is simply too much water for the two of us to bail alone, or simply not enough strength between us.
And when I told you we were on different life rafts, floating toward shore,
I forgot to remind myself that we hadn't yet made it there,
That we're both still floundering,
And that all you were asking for was a rope to guide you. My advice. My aide.
And instead I let my waves of pain and anger crash over you and send you in the wrong direction. You were caught
In a whirlpool, but instead of pulling, my words pushed you deeper.
I see now only from afar, and hope you've sighted shore, yourself, to get yourself on course. I will shout my apology across time and space, and hope that you can hear me.
I will prepare myself next time with rope, and supports, not words, not waves,
And pray that I did not push you further than your voice can reach me,
For whenever you next need me by your side.