We have reached the ocean. 
Swept out without even having noticed how far offshore we are. One moment you were waving a flag, the next it was wrapped around your feet, entangled around your arms, caught in your throat, dragging you to the bottom. 
The tastes of the times are bitter; 
stomach bile; salty waves;
tears in our eyes denied, a man denies his death in an American hospital. 
“This isn’t happening.” 
Funny how the shadow turns up; there on my doorstep, how the little feet found us, pained by the fear of abandonment, called to a place where love can find him.
He was a speck of ebony fur on the sidewalk, rapturous green eyes, a fusillade of desperate cries.
Overhead there was a hawk, eyes clearer than a rifle scope, nature growls in her baby’s stomachs, three nests surround this block, all full of hunters. We brought the tiny speck in to love him, to feed, rapidly became exhausted with his needs, full of worry that the dog will eat him.
He grew strong, he loved hard, entranced with his internal motor. 
We found a home with people that could love him properly.
He lives. He has a home. 
A home on the shore near the ocean. 
Our shores are pounded, the woodpecker’s skulls drum these hollowed trees, the pendulum swings and finally sways to kiss chaos. The cycle repeats in our human history, pulls the covers back, circles ’round to love, returns to compassion, craves one another in order to survive. 
We only have each other, right?  
We fight our sorrow and isolation, and I hope we swim.
Right now is pain and we can’t look away
and turn our backs to leave it for hawks to find. We can reach out, mend her wound, nurture her cries, be quiet, and listen to her heart’s rhythm.
Her heart is my heart, my heart is your heart, and no matter how esoteric it sounds these ideas are here for us to heal together, bond to one another, to tame our vengeful capabilities from letting loose often. 
This is the highest I have to give.
The highest I have for you to take.
And it feels that it is too late because we have reached the ocean.
Let us swim.

Leave a Reply