Banca on the Tide

You learn to ebb and flow
With the tide.

My father told me that
On a banca that felt too small
For the vast, swelling sea.

The sky was the scene of the daily
Battle between day and night
And I was watching the inevitable
Victory of dawn while he spoke.

I prepared the nets
To cast into the waters
While the light and warmth
Stole through the clouds.

It would reach me soon
And, even with closed eyes
I would know when morning
Finally touched the cool water.

When the boat tips,
My father smiles at me:
You know what to do,
Daughter of mine.

Instead of drowning and flailing,
I trod water, going under only to
Surface again and breathe.

I ebb with the tide and
Flow with the swells.

Someday, I will find land again.
For now, I let the sea hold me as it will.