Whale Song

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Whale Song

Monday, 17 February 2025 Written by Eve Moore Views: 1987

Whale Song
For Abigail

It came to me from

out of the blue.

A black and white

sea of scribe, long ago trees—

vessels carrying worlds

on their slim, noble

backs—the white

white whale

logged ageless in estuaries

of mind so that we might see something—

more—in mammalian

lineage: something

like kinship.

Not the monstrous

menace of Ahab obsession,

but a wonder of mystery

breaching surfaces,

planes, depths.

Holding them,

also.

S/he—keeper of nature,

of folly and fool, of pilgrim—appeared

in the still winter night risen

by a tender tuning of one

who shares this love

of brine, of voyaging words,

vistas beyond horizons,

and a moon full of

Aquarian sun

kindle.

One sensing a

selfhood in doubt, at sea,

in want of the soft pulse

of connection.

The sweet milk

of a great

white

whale;

force of a

white ray's

reflecting

much.

Balm

for an

esprit

forsook by

the madness

of inhumanity,

its long forgetting

what it is to

swim

free.

Oft outside

of sapient circles,

as was he narrating the

tale of merciless, deadly hunt,

of monomaniacal man, a myopic mankind,

outcast from the norms of its appetites,

its epic, boundless reaching,

I am touched, by this

light heart.

This ampleness of form

traveling primordial channels,

navigator of dark tides, unmapped veins,

warm of blood and bond

—not for the stalking,

like the sweet of those

who sip flows of flowers,

a bounty shared——not

for the taking.

It is hard to be

human.

To survive

indwelling seas

of survival at all cost

without losing life,

without taking it.

We are not lords of the land,

nor its waters from whence

we've come.

So long ago.

So far away.

So deep within

the vast currents

we hold, we shed,

we surface

for air.

And find another

of feather or fin,

the singular

swirl of a

finger's

flesh.

Thus

buoyed.

Found.

Borne home.

I am Ishmael,

too.

∞|∞

© Photo: Eve Moore Eve Moore ©2025
Eve Moore: Once a professional writer of advertising, I saw the light & it has shown me words of a different nature. And so I take them down & offer them up. And all is well.

For more of Eve Moore's amazing and heart centered poetry and writings, click here!
http://www.crystalwind.ca/eve-moore

“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
—Jimi Hendrix

This poem/prose was submitted exclusively to CrystalWind.ca by Eve Moore.

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