XI — Oceans
Our voice above the din of oceanic choirs
Is not unique, melodious, or sweet — just ours.
Nor do our tears mean more than those of other criers,
salty reminders of latent diluvian powers,
As across abysses alarming currents race,
churning and roiling the sea’s wine-dark skin till it roars,
the tsunami ravishing land with abandon and terrible grace,
vast territories suddenly rinsed, freed from humankind, riven
asunder by aftershocks, nuclear meltdown, and unspoken menace…
And yet we seek beaches, watch the waves break, believe in
the lulling surf’s unbroken cadence, its comforting ancient chant,
As if it sang about a future we could live in.
News posted on Wednesday, May 17, 2017.