They, who know nothing,
of the vastness -- say I died.
Never the same ocean
now calm... now roaring
waves reaching to scar the sky.
I am once more a lone child
in a small ship—Cracked wood,
and tears in the sails.

My sextant is a simple toy,
my only tool
to organize the galaxies.

Clouds darken, thicken the sky.
I peer over the tips
of the fifteen footers.
Undefended, my vessel groans
as grief washes over the gunwales.

My keel settles
on the sandy bed,
the mirrored surface glistens from below.
Instinct commands me—
“Swim !” -- but I don’t know
if I am rising, or the sea is falling?

Petty Gulls — screech, peck my head.
Clinging to the drifting board of my body
risen again under blackened skies
where I am pierced by a blinding ray.
Is it foolish to think She signals?

I pray I may float
through this long and numbing winter,
drift into an inviting spring feeding.

The endless living ocean
stirred by furred and finned creatures
bloodied by long-toothed appetites.
I am a meal for the mouth of the sea.

Bobbing and dipping,
I cannot lift my arms.
My faith is a blaze
offered to the failing Sun.
My body is settling like a leaf
called to the pillowed floor of the sea
in the evening’s last dance.

My last breath sucked free
of my body by the Sun
rises as steam.
The furnace bell has cracked
but emptiness cannot drown my flame.
The light in my flesh thins.
O, I want to be new again.
to share what I have learned.