Sea Behind Me
On this day,
clouds hang heavy, pressing the sea below.
Everywhere I look, granite-grey
drags itself across the landscape,
dresses gulls in ashen drab,
commutes soft grasses into grim stalks.
Grief thrives on a day like this.
I turn my back to the flat, flat ocean,
stare across mainland sand,
bereft.
To wallow is the only logical response, for
the vision I behold
is a mirror to the world: a reflection
of lies, corruption, pain, and malice
to be witnessed;
a burden of fear, separation,
loss, and loneliness
to be borne.
On this day
that confirms
the world is hopeless,
your eyes explode into light,
your mouth forms a perfect O.
You take me by the shoulders,
spin me to face the water.
There, you point,
in the sea behind me,
leaping skyward, playing,
turning flips aloft,
are dolphins—
their joy
now mine,
immediate—
no thought involved,
no decision to be happy,
just the joining
with what is real all around,
even behind my back.
Grief is real, but
so is joy;
my hunter-eyes
cannot apprehend it all;
this is why we have each other.
I cannot see my nose, but you can.
I cannot see the truth, but you can.
On this day,
I cannot see the dolphins,
but you can.
Please, tell me all about them, or
better yet, show me—
I find this so poignant, so beautiful...thank you Mary
...and the heart