Performed by Val Cole
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POEM:
We lived two hundred yards from the Chesapeake Bay,
close enough to hear it breathing in the dark,
close enough that salt was in our blood
before we ever knew the word for it.
Spring came and we ran barefoot over cold sand.
Summer turned the bay to hammered gold.
Autumn brought us storms we stood inside of.
Winter, we went anyway — we were bold.
We dug our castles, knowing they would fall.
We laid out flat and worshipped the sun.
We sailed on days when the wind was almost nothing.
We swam in days when the chop was serious.
Our father was always there with a lesson
Reminding us we were friends with a wild thing.
He said: the water never gets tired.
Remember that, and nothing else matters.
You may grow weary. You may want to stop.
Your arms will feel weak and you may be crying,
The tide makes no allowance for your courage.
Respect the wave before you choose to fight.
We learned to read the pull beneath the surface,
to trust the tides but never trust them fully,
to love the water the way you love a wild thing.
Environmental Film and Screenplay Festival 