Sufficient Surfing

A poem by Achuthan Panikath

Sun Aug 30 2026

I’m hovering on my board
One with the inconsistency of the ocean.
I am used to it now,
Of the rise and the fall,
The occasional pull that tags me far away from where I need to be.
Of the wave that never becomes
And of the ripples that wipe out veterans of this war.
I’m left with the scars from these fights,
Healed instantly by the salts of those drops that chose to stay on.
A sufficient cycle I can bet my life on.
There is something inevitable about this feeling of tepid stability
I am meant to perpetually try
Every wave that washes by is full of life
If I want it, I must be prepared to stand up it seems.
Further my instability to the point of pain
Even if I dread the paddle back to the deepest, safest seas
In order to heal so I can do it all over again.

Or perhaps there will come a wave
That shushes my mind
Wills my feet
And carries me ashore
Never to paddle again.