First, that it is like a wave
that rolls across you standing in the lake
and sometimes lifts you a bit,
so that your toes still touch the sand.
Second, that it sometimes rolls out
and tugs you softly that way, too.

Third, it is like a wave
that cartwheels right over you standing there
and shoves and topples you,
drowning you in its tough muscle,
and you have to sputter for breath.
Fourth, that it sometimes rolls out
with such force that it yanks your legs from under you
and lands you back on sharp pebbles,
and sand sticks to you.

Fifth, it is like a wave
that lifts your whole body so high
that you are swept all the way to kingdom come,
and are lucky to ever get back —
or maybe your prefer to stay.
Sixth, that it sometimes never comes at all
and you are left standing on the beach
wondering how to get wet.

Seventh, that it is like a wave
that changes and treats you different,
and sometimes hard,
with remorse, or cunning, or grief,
or beauty, or wonder, or abandon,
and cuts deepest
when your heart is open and clean
(easy for it to wash through),
and you cannot say no.