The Whale Song


The music skimmed the surface,
Harpooning notes,
Stretching chords into a bagpiped yelp,
While sails drew lines between
Warring centers of blue that darken
As they repelled,
Dissolving light.

The land soldiers loaded
Their wooden backs,
Ready to lick the surface.
Mudlarks with river wrung hands and slick hungers,
Pirates with wanderlust bones and thieving schemes,
Simple men and explorers
Anchoring their names
For immortal weight,
Plunging daggers into subcutaneous layers.

In the breath of the undulating sea
Some rode the swell,
Begging for the swallow,
Shedding themselves in the wild sky.
Their desires and dreams
Salted the moist air,
Souring the shores with its ripe weeds,
Scattering their last breath
In the smooth, pink insides
Of spiral shells.

They rode out as masters.
Returned as slaves.
Half human, half spirits.
Their voices littering the
White capped waves,
Beckoning the wind.

The call of the sea, an echo,
Rounding the corners of reflection,
Pulled some back,
In search of a song,
Woven in the thread
That binds earth to sky,
Mother to child, father to son.
A song that breaks and repairs
All the lost souls.

The rise of the whale song,
Becomes the voice
Of all that is

-S. S. Hicks


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