A wave lasts only moments
but underneath another one is always
waiting to be born. This isn’t the Tao
of people but of waves.
As a student of people, waves, the Tao,
I’m free to let you know that waves
and people tell the same story
of how blood and water were born,
that our bodies are full of creeks
and rivers flowing in circles,
that we are kin of the waves
and the nearly undetectable ocean currents,
that the moon pleads innocence
of its tidal power, its wayward control
of our dreams, the way the moon tugs
at our skulls and loins, the way
the tides make their torturous love to the land.
We’re surely creatures with unknown gods.
From “Saving Daylight”, 2006
I keep rereading this poem today and wanted to share it.
It’s always a sign of something which hits me in a deeper place.