Madison Tovey, Writer, Editor-in-Chief


I drown and call it a baptism, 

Just the idea of the water being holy 

Makes holding my breath worth it. 


But you swim in that water, don’t you? 

You do laps around the alter and wonder  

Why you’re blessed. 


You’re the priest who blessed the water, 

And the witch pulling the tide. 


Though it’s not all that impressive 

If I’m the only one being moved, 

Is it? 


If I were to think of you at every service, 

Or every time I saw the sea, 

I would not be surprised. 


I would share my thoughts and prayers with you, 

But it would be like sharing a birthday wish 

Before the candles are blown. 


So, I will save my prayers, 

And sit you with you, by the tide.