Moon Tide

When I was but seventeen,
The tides stopped.

I swallowed seashells
And tugged at the shores.

Until the moon gave me her blessing,
“You are not yet who you are becoming.”

She began to stir the ocean.
Saltwater and sand churned dark milk.

Starfish spiraled in the currents.

Then the sea gasped and receded to the horizon,
Pulling creatures from their tidal pools.

Waves ran away from land,
Leaving behind a desert.

For decades I wandered through shifting dunes,
In search of what the sea stole.

Finally, I remember,
The sea is within me.

I press sand and snow together
Forming a small body in the palm of my hand.

I lay it on the ground,
Under the sun.

The figure melts, merges, disperses,
Surrendering to the tides.

Catherine Brooks, 2021