Words For Waves
If I were to compose words for waves,
I’d wander the shore, mile after mile, month after month
year after year as I changed ages, letting
the sun set on me and the moon rise on me
sometimes a scimitar, sometimes a golden eye,
and the stars stick their fierce pins into the sky,
letting the sun rise pink again on my pink flesh
I’d wander the shore and let my feet
be familiar of the wear of sand and of rock,
listening, listening, listening, for I’m certain
that the waves have a language all their own,
a way of speaking and making themselves understood
and I have always aspired to be their translator.
the importer of their ancient virgin truth
I’d leave the clouds to others, even though cloud
and waves are intimately connected as both are water
I’d leave the land, too, its vast barrens, and strange hewn
grotesque overweening ranges of mountains all to others
I’d keep my feet walking, listening, listening, listening
for the hint of a word in the thunder rumble
of huge breakers minted on the open ocean
Or perhaps it would be the fan of surf spray
that betrayed a clue in a random moment, a first word
confident of what came after though yet without form
the waves are connected to the deep, to the hidden skin
of the earth that was once surface, perhaps, then dove deep
into a soothing darkness, an immense quiet, a place to wait
and keep on waiting for whatever might come next
But suppose, after all my walking, all my wandering,
all my wondering, that the language of the waves
does not yield to me: what’s the harm in that, I love
to walk and to wander and to wonder and to take wind
on my cheek as I go and feel the flecks of salt it holds.
suppose the waves keep their secrets and exult in them,
then what a quest I’ve had when at last I crash and break