by LJ Frank

 

 

 

sailed a few places here and there

crossed the Pacific, South China Sea

and the northern Indian Ocean

the Bay of Bengal in a seaplane of sorts

Arabian, Mediterranean, Atlantic

and the Gulf of Mexico

would the waves of today

look familiar to ancient humans

from giant swells to calm seas

and storms with walls of water

terrifying mountains from nowhere

roguish and blood draining,

to exist, a shuddering soul’s utterance 

a man carried into the deep 

the haunting consciousness

a muffled cry 

and hours later the sun appears  

as if nothing occurred

barely a whitecap

from a shallow trough

dry land a fable of paradise

mud between the toes

grains of sand smoothing the feet

and then as if a metaphor to life

I bear witness to a Wandering Albatross

soaring in the sky

let him be, to fly is to rest

the conscience of history speaks

never to be harmed

for the sake of having to kneel

in penitence, a symbol of humility

there is no reasoning with nature

or with the mind of the Creator

save the imagination inspired

by the flight of this albatross

enchanting, embracing an allusion 

of the mysterious and numinous

to behold…and nothing else.