Sometimes I wonder what separates
Those who can from those who cannot
And often like the multitude of waves
Crashing onto one another
It is not that the water is different
Or that the swimmers’ strength varies
But that the force of the riptide
Is what pulls us under.
Swimming parallel to the beach
Some cannot reach the shore
Then there are those who
Never leave the sandy safe and
Watch helplessly at the spectacle
Of life being played on a looping reel.
And the powerful surfers
Part the waves at their command
Walking on water, they control the tide
But perhaps only because they choose
Not to surf over jagged rocks.
Is it we who decide which beach
And which water we must enter?
Or predetermined by an intricate
Design of genes that place
Us knee-deep in whatever
Tide fate pleases.