My sister didn’t mind the touch
Or tickle of the sea;
More so, the icy fingertips
He used to capture me.

My sister loved the salty air
And skipped toward the waves,
But little did she know that she
Was dancing toward my grave.

You see, my sister knew about
The dangers in the brine.
But where she had resistance built,
The waters wooed my mind.

She held my hand and called my name,
But deeper were the cries
Of wild things the ocean brings
From where his monsters lie.

A brush of seagrass on my skin
Entreated me to bow.
A choir of sirens sang death’s song:
A vivid, violent vow.

Sister begged me not to go;
Desperately she tried.
But by then I could not hear her
With the roaring of the tide.

Now when others want to swim,
Fear draws them from the bay;
For last I walked the ghostly beach,
The ocean had his way.

Author’s Note: This poem’s content refers to a time in my life when I trusted too strongly in my feelings. I felt as though I was losing my soul, motivation, and joy to the chaos of life. God provided special people in my life who kept me from the selfish fate of the speaker in this poem. Rather than watch me give in to the current, those people pulled me to shore. Thank you, Dad, for your strength. Thank you, Mom, for your love. I owe you so much.