Rip Tide

by Elizabeth McGinn on May 6, 2021


hand holding an octopus
Photo courtesy of

by Grace O’Connor ’22

He shimmers in the golden sunlight,
As she looks at his ripples from the light breeze, mesmerized.
The dip in the ripples is a dark blue with a light blue exterior that the sun accentuates,
He cools her feet, welcoming her into his bountiful abyss.
She steps in, and the water wraps her in his silky balminess.
She slowly swims out, guided by his riptide.
The riptide pushes her out further as she looks at the land becoming smaller.
She starts to panic as she slowly looks for the floor he pushed away.

He is a ravenous beast, trying to pull her down to his deep, dark, depths.
He is frigid, forceful, and has fingers that claw at the shore, constantly searching for more.
Grabbing her legs, dragging her down to the darkness that lingers below,
As her arms move in circles to keep her up, his waves consistently rumble her way,
Pushing her down, and tossing her around, like a plastic bag in the wind.
Her lungs are begging for air, as the saltwater screams around her.
Her eyes beg for help as she looks at the people on the land.

He pulls her back as she reaches for land.
He is everywhere, successfully drowning her in his malice.
He is the water keeping her afloat but slowly dehydrating her.
His hand slices through her like a knife when he slaps her with his weight.
Her tears silently melt away in the water as he rumbles,
Marks of his anger are sheared onto her skin from the debris he spews.
Her arms and legs are weak from pain,

As he pulls her away with his foamy arms, grabbing her from all sides.
She stops swimming, looking at the land bobbing in the far distance,
Filled with people smiling as they savor their lives in the warm sun.
Her home, her safety, no longer could be even through persistence.
He pulls her under, blinding her with murky water from the sea,
As quickly as a wave covers up a footprint,
Gone as can be.