By Jenna Brack
@jennabrackwriting

Have you ever tried 
to catch a wave?

Chasing it across the ocean,
trailing it until you finally 
cross out of your depth,
hopeless and breathless,
with nothing to show for your pursuit
but salty residue on your
aging, wrinkled fingers?

I prefer to stand along the shore,
tending to the daily tide 
sweeping in and out,
watching the waves pick up pearly pebbles
from sandy floors,
leaving new discoveries
behind.

I rock in my chair 
to the shhhh of white noise,
join the ongoing hum
of seaside lullabies,
draw the waves into my lap
for as long as they will stay,
and send them off to play,
again.

Of course I would bottle up 
these waves if I could
(who wouldn’t?)
but then they would cease 
to be waves.

So I watch them
grow into questions and answers,
cheer for their coming in 
and going out.

And one day,
I will wave back
to the waves I have tended,
marveling how beautifully they contribute 
to the expanse
of the ocean.

Poem written by Jenna Brack. Jenna is a writer, teacher, and celebrator of the arts. Her creative work has appeared in Fathom, Every Day Poems, The Sunlight Press, Mothers Always Write, and others. You can connect with her on Instagram and read her occasional musings on Substack.

Photo by Tara Whitney.