Shark week

We are sitting on your couch, and I ask,

“What do you fear?”

And you sit there, and stir your tea gently to ground your body in the safety of your home as your mind drifts to those places,

“The ocean.”

You reply.

And thus,

We put you in a cage and submerged you,

And the sharks came and you shivered from more than just the icy water,

Until they grew bored and swam onward.

Not so you would shake your fear of sharks,

No, they will eat you if you let them, and will offer you no payment for the meal.

But, I watched you as a child, play in the shallows,

And now I watch you, as an adult, contemplate the depths.

For you learned that you feared the shark’s malice, not the sea’s sway,

And when you climbed back aboard our ship,

You said,

“I’d like you to look at your thoughts this way.

For this is why, in the evening when it’s bright, and the morning when the moon appears to wane,

I meditate.”

The sharks will swim on, and you’ll be okay.