High Tide

 

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High Tide

The tides only rise on odd days, odd years
I have been watching now for a long time,
and this is the first one
that it has risen up to my toes,
the very first time, I have wanted to go with it.
Don’t take my word for it,
go to your mountains,
ride your pulse, deep into your arteries.
See what answers look like when they live in the wild,
feral, untameable, too breathless to breathe.
If the mountains bend their knees towards you,
see what you find when your feet touch
their unshaven paths,
see what secrets are like when they live at high altitudes,
stark, undressed, not afraid to be said.
And if ever you hear yourself ringing like a bell,
a loud lost hammer swinging through your chest,
consider a journey back to the sea,
consider placing your feet on the shore,
see if the waves will take you softly,
if the moon will pull you out of your depth,
past the sentries of algae,
through the bright fishes and open mouthed shells,
where the tide’s arms will be.

Catriona Knapman

(First published in Tiferet, 2014).