She is tender and she is tough

She can be kind and soft.

At the same time she raises the ocean tide and shifts directions of the water.

Her force has allowed me to own my voice.

And when I refuse she is kind but strong.

I am pushed like the waves hit the sand.

I resist and I am met with a tender truth.

It pushes me off the edge.

I fall.

She watches me and reminds me of my strength.

My voice can also make waves.

I stand up again.

Stronger. Louder. Softer.

Deserving. Worthy. Powerful.

Just like her.

With her waning and waxing.

Reminding me the cycle continues.

And I have the power to break it.

Rewrite it.

Soft. Tender. Easy.