I stay steady, placing my hand just below the surface, the motion of the ocean like a mother’s caress. I look up and the haze has cleared, the sky the water’s mirror. The sea swells and rises like a chorus; a small wave rises from the depths, slapping me in the chest. I speak back to the water: Miiŋa bo. I am greeting you. Me shwe bo. I miss you. Kaa fo. Don’t cry. After a few minutes, I turn away but not before pausing once more at the break, where water meets land, where spirit meets earth, and there, as another small wave emerges, swelling, rising, just before the fall, the whisper of a
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