Song of the Dying Whale

Floating shadow-like, unseen

In a bellyful of blue,

The liquid light enclasps my skin; my eyes

Are dying drops of dew.

And undulating underneath, a spear

Keeps me in its snake-hold.

They pierced my wings, and still I sing -

But I grow old.

White shapes whisper

As, older than I,

Slower than I,

The ghost-blue river

Shivers down the land

Holds out a wrinkled hand,

Trembles at the touch of salt

Roars, crumbles to its knee

And, paling, sinks into the sea.

In my song I mourn for you

But you are not alone:

All are swallowed whole.

Hear the hungry gale, take heart -

It shrieks and blasts the crests

Brews giant waves, then slashes off their heads

And, bellowing, beats its chest.

Don’t mourn, it cries – protest.

I dive.

Image by Surf on driftwood

Black,

the silence.

Endess,

the black.

I need air.

Up, up to the blue

Webbed light shimmers –

I break through.

Across the surface, in the sun,

Golden dimples run.

Stars, recklessly scattered,

Treasure, merrily squandered

I shall collect it all.

This golden water’s mine,

With me, in me, as I beat it, churn it,

Leave it foaming far behind,

Frothing at my side;

Faster, faster may I glide

For nothing now may stop my flight

Towards the still horizon.

So, on and on I swim

But now the light grows dim.

I shall not stop.

I sound, and singing sink

To drift back into night

Let them up above fight while I sleep -

A calm enfolds my brow.

Let the lulling water flow

Around the world from shore to shore

To lick the land and find out what it knows.

Let the lulling water flow.

Let my tears drown in its tide

These droplets of my soul

Flowing through, forgotten,

Shall kiss, caress,

Embrace the others;

Then climb up to the sky

Be voices in the winds, unheard –

who knows? – be rainbows as they fly.