The edge of a
continent is a lonely place
when we are called to await what the great
Sea
prepares,
returning to its rhythm, breakers to lull
the mind's high wires, jangling out of tune
after generations have foundered, gone under.
O to listen to
the great Sea long and long,
the Sea silences; one has forsaken the
crowd's
clamoring,
accepting a kind of death, a death within life,
but not what we once would have thought—
O secret pearl
of the Sea! O new life!
Uncanny how the
great Sea begins a rapport,
when years you stand before it like a rock,
firm before siren calm and tattering storm,
you begin to understand the divine speech
articulated,
vowels that beat to the ancient metronome.
In lonely hours
the great Sea nods assent;
acceptance is granted when Divinity has chosen
to speak precisely here, to you, your new
life
awaited
and now revealed, a new music heard at the
edge
of a jagged cliff, at the edge of a
continent.
1987