By Beryl Spencer-Scarr

1998

What a wonderful force a wave is,

rolling and bounding in a white-plumed spray.

Rippling and bubbling, stretching

ever stretching towards its tidal end.

With each tumble its strength

takes on a calmer look,

until at last it reaches its water-line.

Then swirling in a half circle it lingers awhile

leaving its mark on the sand,

and then, as if pulled by an unknown force

it returns to the sea, to gather strength.

To reach, perhaps this time, its own goal.

If I could only let my life take on the aspects

of the wave, and open my mind to receive life’s force,

Not to resist the tide of life

to be swallowed and dashed against the rocks.

But with this force ride out the rolling waves

and reach the gentleness of my own tidal-line.

WAVES by Beryl Spencer-Scarr