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Blessing of the Dolphins
This is my religion, the godwits,
Perquisitors in the lacy surf and all
The sea sparking
Sunlight. A small boat
Rigged with the sails of a Chinese junk skims
Swiftly towards the pier, canvas wing, ribs visible
From the beach, flattened by the high tide,
Spellbound, titan beneath the full moon’s siren song.
Not far out, the dorsal fins of a school of dolphins break
The surface and Easter visitors do not turn to look,
Do not see the arcing bodies that soar and dive with the joy
Of their dual identity, as mammals, as water beings.
That I might feel the ecstasy of breath released
And hear the choiring of the others, their sisters
And brothers, of manatee and whale. That I
Might be blessed by the reckless way they laugh at death
And feel, in their unhallowed jubilation, my own song
Rising.
Neli Moody
This is my religion, the godwits,
Perquisitors in the lacy surf and all
The sea sparking
Sunlight. A small boat
Rigged with the sails of a Chinese junk skims
Swiftly towards the pier, canvas wing, ribs visible
From the beach, flattened by the high tide,
Spellbound, titan beneath the full moon’s siren song.
Not far out, the dorsal fins of a school of dolphins break
The surface and Easter visitors do not turn to look,
Do not see the arcing bodies that soar and dive with the joy
Of their dual identity, as mammals, as water beings.
That I might feel the ecstasy of breath released
And hear the choiring of the others, their sisters
And brothers, of manatee and whale. That I
Might be blessed by the reckless way they laugh at death
And feel, in their unhallowed jubilation, my own song
Rising.
Neli Moody
| From Angel Island CA Photo by Neli Moody |