Massive wave hills were breaking further out than I had ever seen.
I told myself and my friend that I would stay close-by shore,
And go no further, no more.
Slipping into the icy froth of the rip express lane,
Passing familiar rocky point,
I sat on my board, just gliding seaward like floating royalty in a river coronation,
Absorbing solar praise,
Robed regally in wet fur seal like suit,
Laughingly shouting back to my friend enjoying the shore-break surfing:
“Check this out!”
Forgetting to embrace shoreline wisdom.
My mistake apparent within seconds,
I am no king of the sea.
Today the familiar merry go round rip
joyfully ridden back to wave riding position
Bulged uncharacteristically and pulled me near to panic,
An unstoppable river, impossible to defy.
I was riding a water chairlift out to liquid white mountains.
In a salty blink, I whispered, “Save me!”
Doubt gushed, poured and exited out.
I saw daughter, wife, scenes of life.
I heard a royal blue voice call out: “Keep going, yes further out.”
Each shivering stroke showed feeble faith
As the sets rising green and tall drew terrifyingly near.
A precious wave approached from an unexpected angle,
Birthing hope within—to catch it would be certain escape.
It lifted me up, throwing me down, carrying me in.
I rode that surfboard like a rapid-rafting baboon,
Arriving to the shore,
Whispering appreciation to the real Sea King.
Poem by Jonathan McCallum