Walking Backward Out of the Sea

While you were walking backwards from the sea,

I had reached the estuary.

When you unwound the seaweed ropes

and returned to all your mortal hopes,

I was where the sky expands,

to the always river, never land,

and no one there to take my hand,

knowing what I had planned.

Soon the sun had dried your skin

and you were ready to begin again,

but I had reached the margin’s shore

where I will never know you more.