The tides rock back and forward, even this winter
I have seen the shore’s ice buckle in by afternoon
The pressure of the great sea’s fingers breathing in,
Out until I’m afraid the ocean will drain away.

I have seen the shore’s ice buckle in by afternoon,
But when high tide returns, the pieces don’t reknit,
And I’m afraid the ocean will drain away
Frozen to jagged bits: winter loves to break things.

When high tide returns, nothing returns to how it was—
It’s the same inside me, I suppose, when my mind,
Frozen to jagged bits, breaks and breaks things
And it’s all I can do to roll the light back in again.

It’s the same inside me as it is out there, I suppose,
Because I am a child of winters so dark
It’s all I can do to believe the light is coming back.
Yet every season, even winter, glistens some of the time.

I am a child of winters so dark, and yet
Even this winter, the tides rocked back and forward
So that the ice, in deep winter, glistened some of the time
With the pressure of the great sea’s fingers, breathing in.

—Jimmy Kindree

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