"Wave of sorrow./Take me there" reminds me of the opening lines of "Cutting Loose" by William Stafford, a poet from the American Great Plains:

"Sometimes from sorrow, for no reason/ you sing"

Hughes and Stafford both capture the truth carried in the crest of a wave — the tension of water dancing at the edge of sea and shore, at the intersection of salt tears and solid ground. Only by remaining still in that equipoise, trusting it, can I rise.

Often, I fail to trust in that stillness, to grip too tightly, to find myself dashed to the rocks. But then along comes another wave, another opportunity to practice.