(after Blessing the Boats by Lucille Clifton)

When waves pull back their relentless show at low tide
         we walk as far as we want, the dog sloshes now
                   through a tangle of seaweed and shells, understanding
                             that permission has been given to venture out.
We have abandoned our salty fear
         of what we cannot see to kiss
                   this moment like a lost child, knowing it
                              (the fear I mean) will return in twelve hours, will
                                       threaten to drown us in waves of grief. You
want to be brave, you want to walk on water
         if someone calls for help. And maybe you will, forever
                   young and strong, believe innocence
                             will protect and high tide forgive you for that.