The water was his home,
Long before our paths intersected;
A safe place where his soul
Would come alive in
The rhythm, spray, crashing of the waves.
The chaos at home was forgotten,
Buried as soon as his feet touched
The sand and solitude became a
Comfort to that which was,
And could not be.
He would stay there for hours,
Long after the last surfer left
And sunrise beckoned the night
To arrive.
I still see it when I watch him:
He comes alive in the water,
His movements fluid, as if the
Water breaks to meet him,
An old and faithful friend.
His wait for the right wave
A meditation, reflection of beauty.
And I know home for him is our family,
But a part will always be
In the sea.

Copyright Hiraeth 2016