The Tide Doesn't Know Your Name

The tide comes in regardless.

It doesn't ask if you're ready.

It doesn't pause for grief or Tuesday.

It arrives—full, cold, inevitable—

and pulls back with everything it touched.

You can resist or you can

stand at the edge of it

and feel small in the good way:

the way a room full of music makes you small,

the way you're glad to be unmattered

for a few clean minutes.