poem

Leviathan

The mystics have it all wrong:

You were never just a wave

Rushing rotely in to shore

Waves may not know they’re water

But I recognized the arched back of your crest

Just before it broke against the beach

You can say waves are transient form

But I’m certain it’s your sea spray alone

That burns my eyes when you crash.

I’ll gather what’s left of you

Swirling in the frothy oneness

And riptide us out to the deeper sea

Where the sharks circle

The whales, the stingrays

Beneath our braided vortex.

Un-hold your non-form,

As we wait for the Leviathan,

Dare it to try to snatch our woven void.

Let it thrash and thrash

The vast blue surface and never

Be able to drag us down

7/29/20