High tide hides it all
Low tide reveals everything so small
Rippling waters
Interlocking waves
Blanketing the tiny grains of sand then washing away
Tiny treasures to be found
Otherwise, lost again when the high tide comes back around

He made me repeat
over and over
his name in the night
a prayer for safety
every time I woke up
night terrors and sweet salvation
he became preacher
and I believed
This incessant ritual
his name on my lips,
my desperate whispering,
I whimpered his affirmations,
waited for the miracle
to come.