We circum-navigate an island hemmed in by the sea
Whisked to shore in a frenzy of exploration
kelp beds squish and pop under foot.
Old mining camps and lodges left vacant
leave a trace of unsettling mystery, the dying out
of what was hungered for, then:
gold, primal beauty, solitude.
We set shrimp pots, sink halibut hooks, and
listen and wait for whatever arises within us:
a confession, a joke, a memory, a story until
the rise and clap of blue water rushes up and
something breaks the surface; we can
feel their pulse and rhythm with our own out-of-tune instrument
and briefly, we are in harmony with that which
cannot be expressed in mere words and phrases,
like a totem shoreline
or an errant cloud.
Artful poems can be written here,
beautiful paintings painted.
The scientist can calculate, the surveyor work his logic:
but the enchantment of this day is ours.
In the unbroken chain of eager explorers
(we are the ecstatics)
we claim it as our seeing, our first time,
our perfect connection
to the deepest and ever-lasting vibrations of life.
*Location: Knight Island, Prince William Sound, Alaska