Humpbacks
There is, all around
us,
this country
of original fire.
this country
of original fire.
You know what I
mean.
The sky, after all, stops at
nothing so something
has to be holding
our bodies
in its rich and timeless stables or else
we would fly away.
has to be holding
our bodies
in its rich and timeless stables or else
we would fly away.
Off Stellwagan
off the Cape,
the humbacks rise. Carrying their tonnage
of barnacles and joy
they leap through the water, they nuzzle back under it
like children
at play.
off the Cape,
the humbacks rise. Carrying their tonnage
of barnacles and joy
they leap through the water, they nuzzle back under it
like children
at play.
They sing, too.
And not for any reason
you can’t imagine.
And not for any reason
you can’t imagine.
Three of them
rise to the surface near the bow of the boat,
then dive
deeply, their huge scarred flukes
tipped to the air.
rise to the surface near the bow of the boat,
then dive
deeply, their huge scarred flukes
tipped to the air.
We wait, not knowing
just where it will happen; suddenly
they smash thorugh the surface, someone begins
shouting for joy and you realize
it is yourself as they surge
upward and you see for the first time
how huge they are, as they breach,
and dive, and breach again
through the shining blue flowers
of the split water and you see them
for some unbelievable
part of a moment against the sky —
like nothing you’ve ever imagined —
like the myth of the fifth morning galloping
out of darkness, pouring
heavenward, spinning; then
just where it will happen; suddenly
they smash thorugh the surface, someone begins
shouting for joy and you realize
it is yourself as they surge
upward and you see for the first time
how huge they are, as they breach,
and dive, and breach again
through the shining blue flowers
of the split water and you see them
for some unbelievable
part of a moment against the sky —
like nothing you’ve ever imagined —
like the myth of the fifth morning galloping
out of darkness, pouring
heavenward, spinning; then
they crash back under those
black silks
and we all fall back
together into that wet fire, you
know what I mean.
and we all fall back
together into that wet fire, you
know what I mean.
I know a captain who has
seen them
playing with seaweed, swimming
through the green islands, tossing
the slippery branches into the air.
playing with seaweed, swimming
through the green islands, tossing
the slippery branches into the air.
I know a whale that will
come to the boat whenever
she can, and nudge it gently along the bow
with her long flipper.
she can, and nudge it gently along the bow
with her long flipper.
I know several lives worth
living.
Listen, whatever it is you
try
to do with your life, nothing will ever dazzle you
like the dreams of your body,
to do with your life, nothing will ever dazzle you
like the dreams of your body,
its spirit
longing to fly while the dead-weight bones
longing to fly while the dead-weight bones
toss their dark mane and
hurry
back into the fields of glittering fire
back into the fields of glittering fire
where everything,
even the great whale,
throbs with song.
even the great whale,
throbs with song.
~ Mary Oliver ~
(American
Primitive)
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